


Don't Look Away

by Longpig



Series: Growing Pains [4]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: All the smut is in chapter 5 if you want to skip it, Alternate Universe, Anal Sex, Angst, Angst and Porn, Bad Decisions, Blow Jobs, Childhood Friends, Divided Loyalties, Espionage, Explicit Sexual Content, Flashbacks, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Mind Meld, Porn with Feelings, Reunions, Slow Burn, Spies & Secret Agents, and it's pretty well telegraphed, blade of marmora
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-28
Updated: 2018-03-28
Packaged: 2019-04-14 04:56:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 21,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14128557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Longpig/pseuds/Longpig
Summary: Decaphoebs ago, a much younger and more innocent Thace befriended the heir to the Galra Empire. Ostracized because of his mixed blood, the Prince latched on to Thace as his only friend and companion. The two were inseparable, until the day that Thace’s family was reassigned. It seemed like the end of the world, but that was a lifetime ago.Now, as a double agent for the Blade of Marmora, life is more complicated than he could ever have foreseen. He does not often think of those days. Sometimes he hears gossip about the wayward prince. He wonders what happened, or what might have been if he had never left; but nostalgia is a luxury he can't afford.All that changes when he is summoned for a mission on the Emperor's behalf. His son continues to trouble him, even in exile; attempts to monitor or temper his behaviour have been violently repudiated. A new tactic is required — Zarkon and Haggar believe they can use Thace’s previous friendship, and send him to spy on the Prince.When the Blade learns of the assignment, they are eager to turn it to their advantage as well. Thace will be forced to balance his cover as a devoted servant of the Empire, his duty to the Blade, and his feelings for his old friend.





	1. Into the Fire

Thace had an idea that something was up when Prorok called him into his office, immediately after returning from his meeting with the Emperor. When his Commander told him to sit down, and offered him a drink, he knew it was going to be something unpleasant, but this… this was unexpected.

“Lieutenant Thace, you’re being reassigned to work under Haggar.” The words hung in the air, echoing ominously inside his head.

“Do you have any idea what this is about, sir?” he asked, finally breaking from his stunned silence. He kept his voice carefully neutral, but his fur was ruffled. It was hardly an unreasonable reaction. A summons to appear before Haggar would discomfit even the most loyal servant of the empire, never mind someone with as much to hide as he had.

“None.” Prorok huffed his displeasure, his heavy jaw working under layers of muscle and fur. He had the habit of grinding his teeth when frustrated or annoyed, and he was none too pleased at the prospect of surrendering his Lieutenant to Haggar’s whims. “I was merely ordered to have you report to her for some sort of special mission.”

“For how long?”

Prorok shook his head. “Why should they tell me? I’m only your commanding officer,” he growled. “I didn’t get the impression it was a permanent reassignment. I told Zarkon I wouldn’t hand you over to become one of her ‘experiments’,” he continued with a sour look—Prorok’s distaste for the ‘Emperor’s witch’ was no secret. “He brushed off my concerns. Said that I shouldn’t worry, that Haggar has his trust, and all that she does is in the interests of the Empire…” His speech trailed off into an irritated rumble.

“Thank you for speaking up on my behalf, sir.” Thace had to admit he had a great deal of respect for Prorok as a Commander. Few officers would dare say anything against Haggar at all, let alone for someone else’s benefit; but he was a man of conviction. It was a pity his loyalty lay with the wrong side.

“Don’t thank me yet,” he muttered gruffly, swirling the dregs of his drink around the glass. “You’d best get going,” he sighed. “I was ordered to dispatch you immediately, and she’s not the sort you keep waiting.”

“Yes, Commander.” Thace stood, and set his own empty glass on Prorok’s desk before snapping off a salute.

“Good luck, Lieutenant. Vrepit sa.”

 

Thace’s thoughts were a whirlwind as he hurried through the labyrinth of corridors that twisted through the Central Command hub. Working with Haggar was a double-edged sword. If he was careful, the information he could provide to the Blade of Marmora might prove invaluable. Learning about her research, what she was doing with the massive amounts of quintessence the Empire was harvesting, or the role of the druids, might give them a clue to aid in stopping Zarkon’s war machine. The stakes were perilously high; so were the risks. The smallest misstep could get him killed, or worse—sent to her laboratory as a test subject instead of a subordinate. He wouldn’t be the first to disappear; every soldier in the Empire knew someone who knew someone whose commanding officer had been dragged off by the druids after one too many defeats. Worst of all, if he were to come under suspicion, he might be forced to give up the Blade’s secrets. Thace had been trained to resist torture and interrogation, but he wasn’t especially keen to test himself against Haggar’s power.

A pair of her otherworldly minions stood sentinel outside Haggar’s lair. Thace steeled himself, and strode up to them with the confidence befitting the High Commander’s second. In perfect unison, two birdlike masks swiveled in his direction. Thace repressed a shudder.

“Stand aside,” he commanded. “I am here to see Haggar.”

“You are expected.” The voice had an unsettling, alien quality—whether that was due to some peculiarity of the mask, or something more sinister, he couldn’t say. He wasn’t completely sure which one had spoken, although he thought it was the one on the left. The druids glided apart, and the one Thace believed had spoken pressed its hand against the door’s control panel.

The chamber beyond was a playground for shadows, lit primarily by the eerie glow of refined quintessence. Vessels of the stuff lined the walls, and tubes channeling the liquid energy snaked off through the darkness to unseen rooms and compartments. A curious aroma hung in the air, something like ozone and char mixed with exotic herbs. In the center of it all, hunched over a console next to an empty examination table, was Haggar. Her back was toward him, spidery violet hands dancing over the control panel, but he had no doubt she knew he was there.

“Lieutenant Thace.” Her voice, low and raspy, was no less unnerving than the druids’. He stepped forward, taking that as an invitation to approach. Her hands dropped away from the console, and disappeared into the folds of her robe as she turned to face him.

“High Priestess Haggar.” He bowed his head, clasping one hand over his breast in a traditional salute. He was somewhat unsure of how to approach her—her position technically lay outside the military, and yet there was not a soldier in the Empire who did not fear her name. She seemed satisfied (or at least, not displeased) by his gestures of respect, so he continued. “Commander Prorok said that I was to report to you.”

“He speaks very highly of you.” Her golden eyes blazed from the shadows of her hood, and Thace was struck by the stray thought that they might burn straight through him. Despite her diminutive stature, she stared straight ahead at him, never looking up, and somehow it was  _he_  who felt small in her presence. “I hope that was not an exaggeration. Zarkon has chosen you for a very sensitive mission.” Thace’s brow furrowed. If the assignment had come from Zarkon, why had he been sent to Haggar? “The utmost discretion is required. As the Emperor is never truly alone, he has entrusted oversight of this operation to me.”

“I see.” He wondered, briefly, if she could read his thoughts; but no, that was impossible.  _Or I would not still be standing here._  “I am honoured to have been chosen.”

“Save your fawning for someone else,” she growled. “There will be no glory in this for you, Lieutenant. But the Emperor will, of course, remember your service.” She glided toward him, the tails of her robes sliding along the floor behind her, and stopped barely an arm’s length away. Thace’s ears pricked forward slightly, waiting for her to continue. Curiosity was beginning to overshadow his misgivings about this mysterious task.

“You are being assigned to report on Prince Lotor.”

Thace blinked, his head reeling for the second time that day. “Pardon?” His heart had dropped into his stomach, and the single word was all he could manage.

“It seems that exile has not chastened him as much as the Emperor had hoped,” she said, her lips curling downward in a dour scowl. “We continue to receive… disturbing accounts, but these are all second and third-hand. The Emperor has sent other agents to monitor his behaviour, but they were”—she paused for a tick, debating her choice of words—”ill-received.”

“ _How_  ill-received?”

“They failed to return,” Haggar replied flatly.

“With all due respect, My Lady; why send me? I am no spy. What makes the Emperor believe I will fare any better?” Thace already knew the answer, but he needed to hear it.

“Don’t play the fool with me, Thace,” she snorted derisively. “You knew him. The two of you were… close.” There it was; the twist of the knife he’d been waiting for. Thace had always kept his childhood friendship with Lotor to himself. It would only prompt off-putting questions, and draw unwanted attention. Of course it was inevitable that it would be noted somewhere in his personnel file; the Empire’s records were exactingly thorough.

“We were friends as youths, yes,” he replied, careful to keep up his impassive facade. “But that was decaphoebs ago.” A lifetime. Before the Blade of Marmora, before all the complications that had taken over his life.

The first time he’d laid eyes on the Prince had been at a weapons training session, mandatory for all children of the Empire. The other students gave the new boy a wide berth, and Thace ended up being paired up with him by virtue of being stood the closest. He’d assumed their aversion was because he was a hybrid—not full Galra. Thace’s family, however, had spent time outside the core worlds, where hybrids were more common, and he wasn’t particularly bothered.

He could fight though, even then. Thace had underestimated his speed and strength that day, and paid for it with a broken nose. Impressed, he’d decided then and there to try and befriend the boy. It wasn’t until later, when the Prince’s bodyguard arrived to collect him, that he realized he’d been sparring with the heir to the Empire.

“He may not even remember me,” he murmured, half thinking out loud.

“You seem to be laboring under the impression that you have a choice,” she intoned sardonically. “Allow me to correct that for you. You will take a ship to Lotor’s base of operations. Do what you must to earn his trust. Then you will report back regarding his activities, and advise how best to… correct him,” she finished with an ominous ring, narrowing her eyes.

Thace pinned his ears back, and did his best to appear contrite. “Of course, My Lady.”

“A ship is being prepared for you,” she continued, “the coordinates will be loaded into your navigational systems. You will depart in eight vargas.” With that, she turned back to her console and her data streams. If she noticed the salute he offered to her stooped back, she did not acknowledge it.


	2. Walk the Line

> _“So you’re the Prince, huh? What’s that like?”_
> 
>   _Lotor glared down at the floor, long white hair falling across his face. “It sucks,” he replied sharply. “People are always asking you stupid questions.”_
> 
>   _Thace laughed; that was fair enough. “So how come you’re stuck here with the rest of us peons?” he asked instead._
> 
>   _Lotor shrugged noncommittally. “My father says it builds character for me to be around other Galra my own age.”_
> 
>   _“Does it?”_
> 
>   _“Depends”— he looked up at Thace with wary curiosity, and the barest hint of a smile—”on how you define ‘character’.”_

 

Thace paced the length of his quarters, anxiously waiting for Kolivan to respond to his request. There was a narrow window each night when it was possible to chance a real-time communications link with the base, if it was carefully done. During the first ten doboshes of the first varga, ships across the fleet synced their data with the hub, creating a burst of network traffic that could hide their encrypted transmissions. It was still risky, of course, and reserved for urgent messages. The window was rapidly approaching; but not rapidly enough for Thace’s liking. He couldn’t decide which he liked least; the waiting, or the prospect of the conversation he would be having when it was done.

For years, he had kept that part of his life carefully compartmentalized. If his past associations were known, it would invite unwanted scrutiny, and uncomfortable questions. It was easier, for many reasons, to set it aside; and he told himself that in any case there was no use worrying about someone he hadn’t seen in decaphoebs.

Although Thace did not indulge in lower-decks gossip, he still heard the same rumours as everyone else, of course. They bubbled up through the fleet like water from a tainted spring. That Prince Lotor was unhinged. That Zarkon had exiled him for his embarrassing deviance. That he’d assembled a freakshow of hybrids to serve as his generals—or his harem, depending on who was telling the tale. It was said that he fought alongside his enlisted men, and allowed conquered worlds to retain their own governments, as a mockery of his father’s Empire.

For all that Thace tried to close off those memories, it was still odd to hear such things about someone he used to know; someone who had once been so close to him. He was well aware of how easily rumours could spin out of control—he had even used it to his advantage in his role as an agent for the Blade of Marmora. But on the other hand, Lotor had hardly been a well-adjusted individual, even back then. Thace recalled a sullen, unhappy boy, mistrustful and quick to anger… but he was also clever, quick-witted and fiercely loyal. _And he always laughed at my dumb jokes._ Thace’s ears twitched, as though his melancholy were a bothersome bloodfly he could flick away.

Finally, his communications device hummed in his pocket. Thace sat on the edge of the bed and input the sequence of taps and gestures that would unlock it. Without this code it would remain, to all appearances, a normal hand-held ticker. The screen flickered, and a grainy image of Kolivan’s perpetually scowling face appeared.

“Thace. Report.” The Leader did not mince words. Every dobosh increased the chances that their piggybacked transmission would be detected.

“I’ve been reassigned, away from Central Command.”

Kolivan’s frown deepened. Thace was the highest-ranked among his double agents, and he was no doubt worrying about the gap his absence would create in their intelligence network. “Where? Why?”

“Haggar has ordered me to spy on Prince Lotor.” Thace kept his tone carefully neutral. “Evidently exile has not had the desired effect on his behavior. She seems to think that I can succeed where her previous envoys failed.”

Kolivan rumbled thoughtfully. “Because of your history,” he filled in. There were no secrets between the Blade’s members. It was a brotherhood built on absolute trust, and right now he was mulling over how to use that particular confidence to his advantage.

“Yes.” Thace hesitated a tick before continuing. “Leader… If he does remember me, it may not be fondly.” His ear twitched, betraying his discomfort. “The circumstances of our last parting were...awkward.”

Kolivan snorted. “I have faith in you, Thace. This mission could prove priceless to the Blade. If he is estranged from Zarkon, there may be a possibility that we could turn him to our cause. And if not, he may still be a source of valuable information. Some little-known weakness of Zarkon’s, for instance.”

“Perhaps, Leader.” He was still uneasy; nothing about this mission sat well with him. He had decaphoebs of experience as a double agent under his belt—he’d been recruited by the Blade of Marmora while still in the Academy—but this felt different. He struggled to put his qualms into words, wishing that he were face to face with Kolivan, without the added pressure of time constraints. “But… Lotor is not Prorok, sir. He is extremely perceptive, and suspicious by nature.” That was only the half of it, of course.

“Have you so little confidence in your training? In your abilities?” Thace thought he saw a trace of a smirk. He was not amused.

“No, Leader,” he grumbled. “I am simply voicing some misgivings. I confess that there are aspects of this assignment which make me personally uncomfortable—”

“That is a luxury we cannot indulge,” Kolivan cut in, his features darkened once more. “You will find the balance required, and you will carry out your duty; as you have always done. Have you any further details to report? When are you to be deployed?”

Thace bowed his head in brief deference. “I leave in just a few vargas. I won’t know any more until I board my ship.” _Haggar’s_ _ship, more accurately._ “It will not be safe to communicate while in transit; I am not certain when I will be able to make another report.” He made a mental note to sweep the vessel for cameras and listening devices as soon as the opportunity presented itself. Once he knew where they were, he could put on a good show for the witch. It was the least he could do, really.

“Understood.” Kolivan gave a clipped nod. “Good luck, Thace. The Blade of Marmora is with you.” The transmission cut out abruptly; there was no sense in risking detection by tacking on more elaborate goodbyes.

Thace tucked away the communicator, and sat down on the edge of his bunk. He glanced around at the apartment he’d called home for the past few decaphoebs. Although it was bigger than any enlisted man’s bunk, it was not exactly roomy. Wasted space was an indulgence, and indulgence could be seen as weakness; and weakness was an infection in the eyes of the Empire. This didn’t necessarily apply to ranks above his own, however—not if Prorok’s office and quarters were anything to go by. The small suite gave few clues about its occupant; Thace had carefully kept it that way. There was nothing that could be traced to the Blade of Marmora of course, and nothing to belie his role as a loyal servant of Zarkon. The only decorations were ornamental weapons, and display cases containing his medals. The place could have belonged to anybody.

Thace sighed, and shook his head. Perhaps he _was_ overthinking this. If he could play this part right under the High Commander’s—right under _Zarkon’s_ nose for decaphoebs, surely he could pull off this new role. Kolivan was right. Personal feelings, if indeed there were any, had to be put aside.


	3. Uninvited

> _ Thace watched with something like reverence as Kiana entered the mess, surrounded by several of her friends. He nudged Lotor sharply in the ribs to get his attention. “She’s cute, right? What do you think, would I have a shot?”  _
> 
> _ Lotor shrugged. “I guess? Maybe? I wouldn’t know,” he muttered, irritated. _
> 
> _ “What, isn’t there anybody  _ you _ like?” Thace leaned over, raising his eyebrows suggestively. _
> 
> _ Lotor grimaced sourly and looked away. “Girls don’t like me.” He stabbed sullenly at the food in front of him. “Nobody likes me.” _
> 
> _ “Aw, don’t be that way. _ I  _ like you.” _

 

Lorokan III was barely habitable, by Galra standards. Once, in the early days of Zarkon’s rule, it had been a pleasant, temperate planet, ideally suited to agriculture, and teeming with prey animals. Millennia ago, a xantherium-rich asteroid had collided with its nearest neighbour, and the shockwaves from the resulting explosion knocked the planet out of its original orbit, moving it closer to the sun. The delicately balanced ecosystems had been destroyed, and now the only arable land was a narrow strip around the equator. The surviving Loroka had adapted reasonably well. Their dark, leathery skin was resistant to damage from solar radiation, and their lanky, long-limbed bodies dispersed the heat well. For most Galra, however, even the small habitable zone was inhospitable.

According to the brief Thace had received, the only reason the planet rated any attention whatsoever was its moon, which was rich in niocovum deposits. The mineral, although not particularly rare, was used to create vital components of the ion drive, making it intrinsically valuable. There were certainly less remote sources, but the Empire was loath to abandon any potential asset. The backwater world remained under Imperial dominion as an auxiliary reserve should a shortage ever occur.

A few decaphoebs ago, the inhabitants of Lorokan III had attempted to depose their overseers, and laid siege to the Galra outpost. Mining operations were seriously disrupted, and the small garrison was decimated. Prince Lotor, already exiled to the frontier, had been ordered to put down the insurrection, and reinforce the Galra presence. He had apparently been successful, because he had claimed the command post as his base of operations ever since. The dossier was woefully sparse past this point. Lotor had been involved in a number of military actions on the outskirts of the Empire, but always at a distance from the main fleet. Reports, as Haggar had indicated, were second and third hand; basically hearsay.

Thace closed the file as the shuttle dropped out of hyperspace a safe distance from the planet. He had read it so many times on the long journey that he could almost have recited it from memory, anyway. He checked his orbital approach vectors as Lorokan III loomed ahead, filling the viewscreen.

From this distance, it didn’t look at all as he’d imagined. The Galra military had a tendency to swarm over the worlds they occupied, colonizing the landscape as well as the population. With such a small amount of usable land, he had expected to find the equatorial zone crammed with military complexes, barracks and fortified labour camps. But while the moon’s surface was peppered with mining equipment, Lorokan III itself appeared largely free of overtly Galran architecture. Besides the mining and transport ships around the moon, he could only see one cruiser orbiting the planet, and it was of a rather unconventional design itself.  _ Lotor’s personal vessel, most likely, _ he realized.

Curious, he flipped on his radio to scan through the local traffic. Skipping from frequency to frequency, he came across a weather warning for dust storms in the northern portion of Alfala province, some commercial air traffic control chatter, a jingle for fruity grain bars, and some kind of broadcast melodrama. None of it was Galran. Either Imperial transmissions here were encrypted in a non-standard fashion—which was possible; or there was little to no military chatter—which was  _ odd. _

It was something of a relief when a strident voice cut into his comms, and a woman’s face appeared on his monitor. She had short, dark blue hair and crest plates that contrasted against her paler azure skin, and unusually colored eyes.  _ “Galra shuttle. Identify yourself.” _ The armor she wore was not standard, but her clipped, precise words left no doubt in Thace’s mind that he was dealing with someone in authority.

“This is Lieutenant Thace,” he sternly acknowledged. “I have been dispatched by Central Command as a special envoy to Prince Lotor. To whom am I speaking?”

The woman’s eyes widened slightly, then narrowed as her lips pursed into a frown.  _ “This is General Acxa. I am transmitting the coordinates of our command post’s landing pad. You are to dock your craft there, and await your escort.” General. _ That was interesting.

“Understood,” he replied, but she had already severed the link.  _ So far, so good. _ Over the course of the trip, he had debated how best to approach Lotor and his people. It was best, he decided, to appear forthright and plain-dealing. Acxa’s reception hadn’t exactly been warm and welcoming, but they hadn’t blasted him out of the sky either. He was faring better than some of his predecessors, at least.

The first thing Thace noticed upon disembarking was the heat. Reading the dossier had done little to prepare him for the reality of the planet’s climate; stepping out of the temperature-controlled ship was like walking into a hot, wet blanket. His fur was already damp from the oppressive humidity, and it felt as though the air he breathed contained more water than oxygen.

The second thing he noticed was the low whine of a blaster powering up. Thace’s ears pricked up in alarm, and he froze mid-stride.

“Turn around. Slowly.” General Acxa’s inflection was cold and menacing.

There didn’t seem to be another option—not unless he wanted to attack her. He swiveled carefully in the direction of her voice, lifting his hands to show that he was unarmed.

Acxa was a small, slight woman; in person it was obvious that she could not be a full-blooded Galra. Her companion was also of mixed heritage, but she was easily as big as Thace himself, with large tufted ears lined with bright pink fur. The markings on her head and face were also vividly coloured, except for one dark blue slash under her right eye. Her armor was of a style similar to Acxa’s; mostly indigo and grey with accents of orange and royal blue. Acxa had a pistol leveled at his head, while the other woman carried a heavy rifle.

“Welcome to Lorokan III, Lieutenant,” Acxa deadpanned. “Ezor, take him.” Thace barely had a tick to register the movement behind him before he felt a hand wrap around his wrist and twist his arm sharply up and backward. His eyes went wide, but he managed to keep from crying out as pain knifed through his elbow and shoulder. His unseen assailant kicked his knees out from under him, and the next thing he knew his other arm was pulled behind his back as well and he was cuffed in restraints. Apparently satisfied that he no longer posed a threat, his attacker leaned around to get a look at him. It was another woman, this one tall and slim with bright, orange-red skin, and a wing-shaped purple and yellow marking across her forehead. Sharp green eyes flashed with sadistic mirth as she examined her handiwork.

“When is Zarkon’s witch gonna get tired of sending her pawns to die here?” she smirked. The long, striped appendage sprouting from the back of her head twitched slightly.

“They’re not even trying anymore,” the burly woman complained. “This one just marched right up to our front door. Must have a death wish.” She flashed him a predatory grin as she adjusted her grip on the rifle.

Thace swallowed hard, his mouth dry. “Listen to me, please.” He let some of his honest desperation creep into his voice. “I owe no loyalty to Haggar. She made me come here because I knew the Prince when we were younger, but—”

“Oh, that’s a good one,” Acxa’s companion laughed. She rested a hand on her hip, holding the heavy rifle one-armed, as though it weighed no more than a loaf of bread.

“Let me guess, you were beeeeest friends,” Ezor drawled, sarcastic.

Before he could open his mouth to defend himself or protest, another voice came across Acxa’s comm link.  _ “Has our guest arrived?” _ It was low and mellifluous, and… familiar.

“He didn’t even put up a fight.” the big one grumbled.

There was a lofty chuckle from the comms.  _ “How disappointing for you, Zethrid. If it will cheer you up, you may dispose of him as you see fit.” _

Thace leaned forward, toward Acxa. He had to say something—act now, or fail both of his missions before even speaking to the Prince. “Is that Lotor?”

A sharp kick to his ribs cut him off, and knocked the wind out of him before he could say more. “Quiet, spy,” Ezor hissed.

Acxa glanced down at him with a deepening frown as he gasped for breath. “He says he knows you, sir,” she said, finally.

_ “Is that so?”  _ Thace detected a hint of curiosity, and thanked the stars for Acxa’s caution.

“I don’t believe it. It’s a trick,” Zethrid growled, unhappy about being deprived of her plaything.

_ “I will be the judge of that. Bring him to me.” _

“Yes sir,” Acxa replied. The link dropped, and she trained an icy, mistrustful eye on Thace. “Get on your feet.”

Before he could comply under his own power, Zethrid grabbed him by the arm, yanked him up, then spun him around, laughing when he stumbled off-balance. “Move it,” she barked, prodding him roughly with her rifle. “Don’t give me any excuses.”

Thace put his head down and gritted his teeth. There was no point in protesting his innocence to them. They had absolutely no reason to trust or believe him. It was all up to Lotor—either the Prince would accept him, or Zethrid would get her way. At least it was bound to be cooler inside. He distracted himself from the uncertainty of his situation by observing his surroundings as he was marched through the compound: the number of fighters on the ground , the rifles of the guards at the main door, each sentry they passed, and the route they took. The soldiers, he noted, wore uniforms styled more similarly to the Generals’ than traditional Empire garb.

He was somewhat intrigued to see a number of native Loroka working inside the command post, especially since they were not dressed in the manner of prisoners or slaves. Most appeared to be employed in custodial positions, but there were some conspicuous exceptions. He noted one woman who appeared to be a cook, and passed another who was conversing with a Galran medical officer in a way that suggested they were equals, or close to it. A Loroka man clutching an official-looking clipboard against his chest emerged from the lift they were awaiting. Each eyed Thace and his captors with barely-concealed curiosity, but no fear. It was...  _ uncanny _ .

Thace counted four floors before the elevator doors opened and he was shoved out into a large chamber, clearly the station’s command hub. The room was dominated by a raised central platform ringed by data terminals and holoscreens. Two figures stood upon the dais, their backs to the lift. One was a hooded woman with a long reptilian tail. As she turned toward him, at first he thought her features were obscured by shadow; but when she faced him fully he could see that her face was perfectly, unsettlingly smooth, except for the jagged line of her mouth. The other person could only be Lotor. Even after so many decaphoebs, he’d recognize that hair anywhere. Thace’s mouth went dry. He hadn’t felt this nervous since his first undercover assignment.

Lotor must have heard them come in, but did not move to face them, apparently more interested on whatever was on the display in front of him. Thace knew full well that it was a psychological tactic; but this time that knowledge did not lessen its effectiveness.

“What have you brought me, Acxa?” Lotor asked, after a heavy moment of silence.

One of the women—he wasn’t sure which—shoved him forward by way of an answer. Thace stumbled, but managed to catch himself before falling. Slowly, with languid grace, Lotor turned to look down at his captive, and Thace got his first real glimpse of his old friend.

He had never truly understood why their peers had called Lotor ugly when they were young. He was  _ different _ , certainly; he would never be conventionally handsome, but Thace thought he possessed an interesting, striking air. That was more true than ever now. He was taller of course—still shorter than Thace, although the gap had narrowed considerably—and he moved with a grace and confidence that his youth had lacked. Age had had sharpened his fine features, and his overall appearance was exotic, almost… beautiful. Thace couldn’t look away. His fur ruffled as he waited for the reaction that would decide his fate; but the haughty smirk on Lotor’s face faded as his eyes widened with recognition; and Thace released the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

“Thace? Is that you?” He strode toward the steps down to the main level, the faceless woman close behind him. From somewhere among the terminals, a black cat with blue and orange markings lept to perch on her shoulders.

Thace swallowed hard. “It’s been some time… I wasn’t sure you would remember me.”

Lotor’s mouth curled into a crooked grin as he approached. “How could I forget my old friend?” Glittering blue eyes flicked over him appraisingly. Beneath the sanguine exterior, Thace detected a look he’d seen so many times, all those years ago; something in the Prince’s eyes that asked,  _ are you here to hurt me? _ Thace felt a stab of guilt, and prayed that he was not. “My, it  _ has _ been a long time,” Lotor was saying. “The grey does suit you, though. It’s… distinguished.”

Thace chuckled. “We can’t all age as gracefully as you.”

“So, uh,” Zethrid cut in from behind him, “does this mean we’re not keeping him as a prisoner?”

“Of course not!” Lotor grinned more widely. “He is our guest.”

“Bummer,” Zethrid mumbled, dejected.

“Sir, I have to object.” Acxa stepped forward, her hand on the pistol at her hip. “We can’t trust him. We _ know  _ Haggar sent him here to—”

Lotor raised a hand, silencing her. “I’m sure Thace will be happy to explain how he came to be here.” His eyes locked onto Thace, cautious but inquisitive.

“By all means,” he nodded. “It’s true that Haggar ordered me to come here. She thought I would make a more successful spy than her previous agents.” He felt Acxa glaring at him with suspicion, but carried on. “I have no love for her, but I did not want to end up in her laboratory either, so…” He shrugged, as best he could with his hands still cuffed behind his back.

“What did you plan to do, then?” Acxa challenged. “Spend a couple of movements here and then just tell her ‘sorry, I couldn’t find out anything’?” She frowned, her eyes dark with mistrust.

“I hadn’t planned that far ahead. I was waiting to see whether you killed me, first,” he replied with a wry twist to his lips. “I suppose I’ll tell her what she wants to hear, which is that you’re a harmless but incorrigible deviant.”

Lotor laughed again. “See, Acxa? Completely trustworthy.” Acxa continued to glare, unconvinced, but he paid it no further attention. “Release him.”

Ezor stepped up behind him and slid the keychip over the manacles, catching them as they dropped from his wrists. “No hard feelings, right?” she chirped with a wink as she skipped over to stand next to Axca. Zethrid followed, although she still seemed disappointed that there would be no violence.

“Of course,” he replied, rubbing his wrists where the cuffs had chafed them. “None at all.” He was sure he couldn’t say the same for Acxa.

“Allow me to make proper introductions, before you think I’ve completely forgotten my manners.” Lotor gestured expansively at the group next to him. “These are my generals; Acxa, Ezor, Zethrid and Narti. And of course you remember Kova.” The cat perked its ears up, then settled down and curled itself around Narti’s neck.

Thace blinked in disbelief. He  _ had _ thought the animal looked familiar, but it had been decaphoebs… “Kova? How—”

“He too has aged gracefully,” Lotor smirked. Ezor and Zethrid snickered; Narti made a low clicking sound that might have been a laugh as well.

“Perhaps he’ll tell me his secrets,” Thace muttered, with a self-deprecating grin. _So_ _this is the so-called harem,_ he mused. He did not get that impression at all; they struck him more as a close-knit group of comrades, or even a family. _To replace the one that failed him._ There was clearly a powerful bond of trust between them; and Acxa in particular seemed protective in a way that reminded Thace of Lotor himself, in his younger days.

One of the terminals on the platform chimed, and Narti turned towards the Prince, her tail twitching restlessly. Her hands fluttered quickly through the air. It took Thace a tick to realize she was speaking in sign, and he caught only a couple of words; something about scan results. Whatever it was certainly captured Lotor’s attention.

“I’m afraid you’ll have to excuse me, my friend; I have some pressing matters to deal with.” He smiled, and offered an apologetic shrug. “We’ll find you somewhere to stay, and then perhaps you’d care to join us for dinner?” He fixed him with an expectant look.

Thace had all but forgotten how compelling those eyes could be. Lotor had changed so much—his mellifluous, polished voice and self-assured manner painted a very different picture than what Thace remembered—but meeting his gaze felt like looking back in time. “I would be delighted,” he replied, shaking off his daze.

“Excellent.” Lotor beamed at him; his wide, crooked smile delivering another stab of nostalgia. “Ezor, if you would be so kind as to escort our guest?”

“Mm-hm. You’re with me, big guy.” She sauntered over and hooked her elbow through his, as though she hadn’t been trying to rip his arms off barely half a varga earlier. As she led him back into the elevator, Thace could feel Acxa’s glare boring holes into his back.

“So. You and the boss, huh?” Ezor nudged him playfully as the lift doors closed. Thace nodded. He was still a little thrown by her sudden familiarity, but being on good terms with at least one of the generals could only be a good thing. “Sorry again about before,” she continued. “You can just never be sure who’s going to try and kill you, know what I mean?”

_ You have no idea. _ “Perfectly understandable,” he replied. “Although I think I can be confident that your friend still would. She doesn’t seem to like me very much.”

“Oh, that’s just Acxa. She’s suspicious of everyone.” Ezor shrugged as the lift came to a stop.

“Reminds me of someone I used to know.”

She laughed easily, tossing her cranial appendage over her shoulder as she led him down the hall. “So how old were you when you used to hang around with each other?”

“Adolescents. We were cadets together I was pre-Academy.” It seemed like millennia ago.

“Awwww, I bet you were adorable,” she cooed, “getting up to all kinds of shenanigans together. Hmmm?”

“You could say that.” It felt odd to be talking about memories he’d shut away for so long with a near-total stranger. It was even more peculiar how easily it all came back to him. Sparring in the training hall. Sitting together in the cadets’ mess, joking about their classmates. Loitering far past curfew in Lotor’s room, letting him groom his fur, or just talking about...whatever.  _ The way his eyes lit up when I coaxed out a smile. _

“I’m sure you’ll tell us all about it, right?” She smirked, flashing the barest hint of fangs.  _ Don’t count on it.  _ “Here we are!” She stopped and stood hipshot outside an unmarked door, one hand on her slim waist. She gestured toward the entry scanner. “All yours. Lucky for you we keep our crew pretty tight, so there’s extra space.”

“I appreciate the hospitality nonetheless,” he said with a polite nod. He pressed his hand against the scanner, and peered inside the open door. The room was smaller than his bunk on the Central Command station, but not by much. He wondered who had occupied it before Lotor’s arrival, and what had happened to them.

“I’ll have someone bring you the stuff from your ship. After I go through it all of course.” She winked at him, but he had no doubt she was serious. “Anything you wanna tell me about now?”

Thace shook his head. The only thing he carried that could be construed as incriminating was his luxite blade; in its inactive form it was easily tucked away and concealed in his right cuisse. “Haggar does have the cabin bugged though,” he volunteered.

“Mmm, of course she does,” Ezor hummed. “Wait”—she held up a finger—”don’t tell me where. It’s more fun that way.”

“Anything you want to tell _ me _ ?” He grinned, deciding to test her familiar manner.

“Just this,” she leaned forward with a sly, wolfish smile. “I hope you brought a change of clothes, ‘cause Prince Lotor’s not too fond of this aesthetic.” She tapped a sharp claw against the red insignia etched into his armour. Then, with another flip of her striped tendril, she sauntered off, leaving him to his own devices.  _ But not, I suspect, unsupervised. _

Thace hadn’t brought much with him—the Blade had taught him to live simply; to minimize attachments. Evidently it didn’t take Ezor long to go through his meager collection of personal effects, because it was not more than a varga before his small footlocker was delivered to his door. He wondered if she appreciated his making her job easier.

As it happened, he did not actually own many clothes not issued by the military, so he opted instead to simply remove most of his armour. Then, feeling somewhat self-conscious in only his undersuit, he added a short, high collared grey jacket. He caught a glimpse of his reflection in a mirror, noting somewhere in the back of his mind that it likely concealed a camera. Thace reached up to smooth out the fur on his ears, and idly traced one of the silver streaks that ran from his temple to the tip.  _ Distinguished. _ A wry smile crept across his face.

He was surprised at how good it was to see Lotor again. Perhaps part of that was relief that, despite the exile and the rumors, he seemed to be doing alright—at least on the surface. There was also less awkwardness than he’d feared.  _ Maybe he doesn’t remember. Neither of us were particularly clear-headed that night. _ Thace’s last memory of Lotor was one of those agonizing moments of adolescence that haunted him on insomniac nights well into his adult years. If the Prince had put it out of his mind, so much the better. It would make it much simpler to fulfil his mission and gather information for the Blade of Marmora.

It was about a varga later when a Loroka valet arrived to show him to dinner. Lotor sat at the end of the table, the head of his ersatz family, with Acxa at his right hand. She glared at him as he entered, but Lotor smiled and waved him over, gesturing to the empty seat on his left. Ezor was beside her, with Zethrid and Narti opposite. The latter two seemed mostly indifferent to his presence, but Ezor shot him a little grin.

“I’m glad to see you found your way,” Lotor smiled.

“Yes, I had an excellent guide.” He looked behind him, intending to thank his escort; but the Laroka had already vanished. He moved to sit down, then hesitated with his hand on the back of the chair, glancing around at the generals. “I hope I’m not taking someone’s place…” He didn’t want to ruffle any more fur than he had already.

Narti looked up at him, but it was Kova’s golden eyes that caught his.  _ It’s fine, _ she signed, with a little shrug.

“We’re all so pleased you could join us,” Lotor purred as he settled in, ignoring Acxa’s dagger-eyes.

“This is all very nice”—Thace started as a Loroka man set a plate of food in front of him, and another leaned over to fill his glass with a deep purple liquid. He wasn’t used to being waited on. This sort of extravagance was unheard of on the hub; even Prorok didn’t have civilian attendants—and he certainly didn’t eat with his subordinates. “Do you always take meals together like this?” he asked, as the servers made their way around the table.

“Not always, no.” Lotor inclined his head briefly toward the hovering Loroka, apparently dismissing them. “We try to make it once a movement. It boosts morale.”

“I don’t usually go in for all this fancy stuff myself,” Zethrid glanced at him and gave a casual shrug, the first indication that she  _ might _ forgive him his not being available for a beating.

“That doesn’t stop you from scarfing it all down,” Ezor teased, twirling her fork with her fingertips.

“I didn’t say it wasn’t good,” she grumbled, her ears twitching. Thace detected a soft huff from Narti.

The meal consisted of some kind of meat in a thick red sauce, accompanied by finger-shaped green and yellow roots, and hot rolls. Only the bread was familiar to him, but it all smelled delicious. Thace suddenly recalled that his last meal had been a compressed ration bar, hastily consumed many hours ago aboard his shuttle. He carved off a modest bite of the meat and lifted it to his lips. He was no connoisseur, but the taste was exquisite. The flesh had an interesting gamey flavour, and the sauce was rich and savory, cut through by a refreshing tartness. He rumbled appreciatively as he chewed. “What is this?” he asked once he’d swallowed.

“Bizzek. It’s a native quadruped,” Lotor replied as he cut into his own food. “This is all local fare.”

Thace raised an eyebrow, intrigued. The Galra were not known for embracing the culture of subjugated worlds. Any similar outpost he’d been stationed at or visited relied on military-produced nutritional paste, augmented with more traditional provisions brought in from the core worlds.

Lotor noted Thace’s expression with an impish grin. “Not what you were expecting? You’ll find that we do many things differently here.”

“So I am learning.”

“I’ll show you around the city tomorrow,” Lotor promised. “In the meantime—”

“In the meantime,” Ezor interrupted, “how about you dish up some stories about the two of you, hmmm?” She bent forward on her elbows with a wicked smirk, her chin resting in her hands.

“Yeah,” Zethrid echoed, her mouth still full of food. “We want all the good dirt!” Even Narti clicked in agreement.

Thace squirmed under their attention, staring uncomfortably at his plate.  _ Trained to resist interrogation, remember? _ He chided himself. “I wouldn’t want to wear out my welcome so soon,” he offered as an excuse.

Ezor rolled her eyes, sitting back in her seat with a huff. “Oh, you’re no fun at all. Just like him,” she complained. Acxa snorted derisively.

Lotor leaned toward Thace, and he caught a breath of some wooded, pleasantly spiced fragrance; perhaps something in his hair. “Do you remember that survival training exercise on Ulippa?” There was a sly curl to his lips, his blue eyes gleaming.

“I remember you broke your leg and I had to carry you,” he laughed, the tension ebbing away for the moment.

“I’m still amazed you didn’t leave me there to freeze, after what happened with Kiana.”

“Who’s that?” Ezor drawled in a singsong voice.

“A girl,” Thace sighed. “Lotor decided that she was a distraction from the mission, and took it upon himself to, ah, improve my focus by chasing her off.”  _ I really ought to have known, then. _

“Wow, rude,” Zethrid chuckled.

Lotor affected a guilty shrug. “It may be that I lacked a certain amount of social grace in my youth.” He grasped Thace’s shoulder briefly, his hand warm even through the layers of fabric between them. “Lucky for me, Thace has always been the forgiving sort.” He smiled at Thace with a softness that caught him off guard.

“You mean ‘a sucker’,” he added with a self-deprecating huff.

“Call it what you wish,” Lotor laughed. “You were kinder to me than I had a right to expect.”

“Aww, that’s sweet,” Ezor cooed in a syrupy tone. “Isn’t this nice? We’re getting to know each other.” She elbowed Acxa, who broke off her icy glare at Thace long enough to scowl at her.

Fortunately for Thace, this exchange seemed to slake Ezor’s thirst for gossip, at least for the time being, and the conversation turned to safer topics and small talk. There was some work-related discussion about sector patrols and the like, and Thace gave a somewhat abridged version of how he had come to serve on the Hub under Prorok. After a few glasses of whatever the purple stuff was called, Zethrid launched into a colourful story about a hunting expedition she’d gone on in a neighbouring province. Even Acxa thawed slightly, sharing a few jokes with Ezor, although she still didn’t speak to Thace beyond asking him to pass the salt.

After the meal was finished and everything cleared away, Lotor offered to escort him back to his quarters personally, brushing off Acxa’s suggestion that she—or at least a guard—accompany them. “I do apologize for that,” he sighed as they walked. “None of us are given to trusting freely; but Acxa’s past has led her to be particularly skeptical of outsiders. Fortunately for you, her caution also extends to ensuring she’s not about to execute someone who might actually matter to me.”

“I have the impression she may be regretting her decision.” Thace said with a wry grimace.

“She may be,” Lotor laughed easily. “She does not know you as I do—or did, I suppose,” he amended. “You do not seem so different, though. Except for the grey.” He flashed that crooked grin again.

“Older and wiser, I hope.”

“In this universe, one does not often achieve the former without the latter.” There was an ominous weight to his words, a darkness that seemed to pass fleetingly over his features like a cloud across the moon. He gave an offhand shrug, and it was gone. “How long do you anticipate staying with us?”

“Perhaps a movement or two? Long enough to be able to tell Haggar that I carried out a complete assessment, of course.”  _ And to determine how you might be useful to the Blade of Marmora. _ The thought made him more uncomfortable than it should have, twisting at the back of his skull like a Ceti eel.

“I hope your visit will not be  _ too _ short,” he said, just as they stopped outside Thace’s door. “It’s good to see you, Thace.” Lotor offered his hand; without a thought Thace extended his own, clasping his elbow in a traditional greeting. The gaze that met his was warm, compelling. He had the momentary impression of standing at the edge of an impossibly deep, clear pool, about to fall in.

“You too, Lotor.”


	4. No Rest for the Wicked

> _ “Whatcha thinking about?” Thace asked, without opening his eyes. He was stretched out on Lotor’s bed, sleepy and relaxed after he’d let his friend comb out his back fur for him. _
> 
> _ There was a long silence before Lotor said anything. “You ever kiss anybody?” he asked. _
> 
> _ “Sure, lots of times,” Thace laughed breezily. It was a lie of course, but he wanted to impress Lotor, so... _
> 
> _ "What’s it… like?” _
> 
> _ “Oh, well…” Thace half-smiled, hoping it looked knowing. “It’s warm, and uh, kind of wet, I guess? But nice. You get their scent and...”—his eyes flew open as he realized—”WAIT A TICK.” He sat up, staring at Lotor with a wide, self-satisfied smirk. “There  _ is _ someone you have a crush on! I knew it,” he crowed. Lotor flinched and scrambled backward—and nearly fell off the edge of the bed before Thace caught him by the wrists. “Who is she?” Thace demanded, still grinning impishly, ears pricked forward. _
> 
> _ “Nobody, there’s nobody!” Lotor protested, flushed violet. “It’s just hypothetical!” _
> 
> _ “Suuure it is,” he laughed. “Fine, fine, keep your secret...” He let go of Lotor’s arms and sat back on his haunches. “I’ll figure it out, though.” _

 

Thace did not rest well that night, plagued by guilt and long-buried memories.  _ I should not be here _ , he told himself as he pushed through another set of press-ups, having abandoned the attempt to sleep. Lotor seemed content here, far away from the Empire, beyond his father’s crushing grasp. He’d built a new life, a new family. He certainly appeared to be happier and more stable than Thace had ever known him to be, contrary to what the Imperial scuttlebutt would have suggested.  _ And here I am, sent to spy on him for not only the Empire, but the Blade as well. To determine his potential as an asset, a piece to be moved on a game board. _

It should not have been so difficult to reconcile. Much of his life now was built upon subterfuge and deceit. Hadn’t he spent decaphoebs cultivating Prorok’s trust, even his friendship? Throk and Hazar almost certainly considered him a friend as well. It wasn’t that Thace didn’t enjoy their company, or even respect them. It was simply necessary to compartmentalize and prioritize, to separate emotion from the mission and the greater good. So why was it so hard this time?  _ You know why. Because he loved you. Because even after all this time, he welcomed you with open arms, and you know you don’t deserve it. _

Frustrated with himself, Thace growled out loud, baring his fangs. If anyone  _ was _ watching, he hoped they would chalk it up to exertion. These thoughts were foolish; he knew this, rationally. He needed to regain his focus, that was all. What would Kolivan say?  _ The same thing he always says: knowledge or death. _ He grimaced internally; but picturing the Leader’s dour, scowling face did help, a little. With a sigh, Thace got to his feet and went to scrub some dust through his fur before meeting Lotor.

His focus was challenged as soon as he saw Lotor again. He was confident and smiling; skin glowing, hair perfectly styled— _ he _ certainly hadn’t been losing any sleep. Thace swallowed his feelings, pushed them down as far as he could, and struggled to find his psychological quietude again.

Lotor showed him around the central command building first, starting with the general commissary, as Thace hadn’t eaten yet. His breakfast was closer to the sort of outpost food he was used to; but there were still some spices and flavours he didn’t recognize. The mess was packed with Galra, presumably about to start their shift for the day, or just coming off a night patrol. Thace still wasn’t sure which ranks corresponded to the unfamiliar uniforms, but it seemed that the various levels of command socialized freely here—another thing that would be unthinkable in the core systems. Even the salutes the soldiers offered their Prince lacked the stiffness and formality he would have expected.

Thace took careful mental note of the base’s layout, including—especially—those areas from which Lotor discreetly steered him away. He let himself slip back into the intelligence-gathering mindset, and the familiar exercise helped to clear his head of distractions...to an extent. Each time that Lotor touched his shoulder or his elbow to direct his attention toward an area of interest (or away from another), Thace’s focus was rattled as he realized again exactly who he was with, and what he was doing. And then there was that  _ scent. _ What  _ was _ that, anyway? His mind wandered as he tried to place the notes of fragrance.

_ Snap out of it, Thace. _ He would have slapped himself, if he could. He tried to concentrate instead on what Lotor was saying as he proudly showed off the communications center—something about sector patrols and reports that he really ought to be memorizing…

Once the tour moved outside, the only thing he was aware of was the heat. It overwhelmed his senses, tamping down everything else to a distant thrumming. He felt as though he was underwater, drowning. Lotor, however, didn’t seem at all bothered. He strode forward as briskly as ever, and Thace struggled to match his pace despite his longer legs.

“The climate does take some getting used to.” Lotor smiled apologetically as he waited for Thace to catch up. In a training yard on the other side of a nearby fence, Zethrid was leading a group of soldiers through some combat drills. Even though they were wearing shorts instead of the usual practice suits, Thace was amazed that they could withstand the oppressive temperature. Some of them were even furrier than he was. “After a few movements, you’d be ready to hit the yard, I’m sure.” His eyes sparkled with amusement.

“I’ll take your word for it,” Thace said wryly, although the impact was somewhat lessened by his gasping for breath.

Lotor laughed, and it struck Thace again how much more easily it seemed to come to him now. “I have a land transport waiting to take us to the capital; perhaps that will be more to your liking. It’s temperature-controlled,” he grinned. All Thace could do was nod, grateful.

The city was as perplexing at ground level as it had been from the air. As he had noted on his approach, there were very few buildings of Galran design. Another notable absence was that of armed soldiers—typically, occupied populations were kept under careful guard, but the only Galra he saw on the streets appeared to be on civilian errands, moving freely through the crowds of Loroka. Thace was mystified.

“I had read that much of the planet’s infrastructure was destroyed or damaged in the insurrection,” he commented. “Was the capital not as severely affected?”

“Oh, it was,” Lotor replied with a disdainful huff. “During their last stand against the rebels, my predecessor”—he spat out the word as if it had a foul taste—”decided to wipe out as many civilian targets as possible before his inevitable defeat. It was shameful.”

Thace nodded grimly. This sort of petty scorched-earth policy was all too common. “So then… Where did all of this come from?” He gestured toward the window, and the city outside.

“We helped them rebuild,” Lotor answered. He smiled, swelling with pride. “It was one of the terms of our arrangement. We gave them back their cities, their government. We offered them safety and stability, in return for their… cooperation, as it were.”

Thace hummed thoughtfully. Compared to the centuries of oppression they had endured under Zarkon’s bootheel, this must seem like a utopia to the Loroka. To him, however, it sounded uncomfortably like a glorified protection racket.

“For millennia, my father has been squandering the Empire’s resources and people in pursuit of conquest without purpose. Subjugating planets for the sole purpose of fueling more expansion, and wasting further energy on managing the hostile populations. We should be seeking  _ allies _ , not making more enemies.” Lotor’s hands were animated as he spoke; he was clearly passionate about the subject. It was easy to see how he had come to inspire the loyalty of those around him. Still, Thace wondered if the Loroka truly thought of themselves as allies of the Galra. He also wondered whether Lotor did.

When they reached what he assumed was the city centre, the car came to a smooth stop at the side of the road. Lotor smiled, noticing the curious prick of his ears. “Come. I want to show you something.” To Thace’s silent dismay, he pushed open the door, and stepped out into the wall of heat and humidity.

Lotor led him down a busy pedestrian walkway, then through a labyrinth of smaller side streets and alleys. The crowds forced him to shorten his strides, so Thace didn’t have to struggle quite so much to keep up, at least. This area of town appeared far older than what he’d been able to see from the road. The buildings seemed to lean toward each other overhead, and instead of a smooth artificial surface the ground was paved with rough cobblestones, uneven beneath his feet.

Thace smelled the market before he saw it, even through his heat-struck daze. It was a riot of aromas: fruits, spices, meats, flowers…and some things at which he could only guess. When they stepped out of the alley into the plaza, the buzz of activity and colour was just as striking. It was crammed with stalls hawking textiles, crafts, and all manner of foodstuffs, manned by Loroka and aliens alike. Thace even spotted a small Unilu swap tent in the far corner of the common.

“This market was one of the few areas left unscathed after the rebellion,” Lotor explained, taking in the expanse of the square with a sweeping gesture. “I’m certain that would not have been the case if the former commander had any idea of its value.” His lip curled with disgust. “This place illustrates the short-sightedness of my father’s philosophy. It is this sort of blending of ideas, this  _ diversity _ that spurs growth and innovation. He would rather eliminate every ambition of our race, save for conquest, until the Galra are little more than automatons. Do you  _ see, _ Thace?”

Thace couldn’t focus on much beyond Lotor’s face, shining with passion as he outlined his vision. Everything else was now blurred out by heat-haze. He nodded anyway, though the movement made his head pound. “It is a marvel.”

Lotor beamed, sharp white teeth glinting in the blazing sun. He rested a hand on Thace’s shoulder, steering him toward the press of the market. “Come over this way. You have got to try these sazàn—they’re like nothing you’ve ever tasted…”

The excited eagerness in Lotor’s voice took him back, recalling those long-ago days of roaming the halls of the Central Command Hub, finding all the places they weren’t supposed to be… Thace tried to hang on to the present instead, but his head was swimming. His mouth felt dry, his heart racing. Too late, he realized what was happening; some half-forgotten survival brief echoing in his mind. His legs buckled, and the last thing he registered before his vision blacked out was the cobbled ground rushing up to meet him.

His hearing was the first of his senses to return. Muffled, incomprehensible voices crowded around him, drowning each other out. Above them all there was a buzzing, high-pitched whine. Slowly, it receded, and one of the voices became clearer; he could make out someone saying his name. With all the effort he could muster, he forced open his eyelids. For a tick all he saw was a wash of colour, indistinct shapes against a blindingly bright background. When at last his vision returned, Lotor was looking down at him, his eyes wide and his brow furrowed. Thace realized with a start that his head was in fact cradled in the Prince’s lap.

“Well, this is embarrassing,” he croaked weakly.

“Thace, I am so sorry—I should have realized.” He shook his head, frowning.

Thace pushed himself up to a sitting position before he could become any more uncomfortably aware of his face resting against Lotor’s thighs. He noticed that a crowd of curious onlookers had gathered, though for now they kept a respectful distance. “I’ll be fine.” He grinned ruefully. “It may be quite a while before I’m ready for the training yard.”

Lotor passed him a clear pouch containing some kind of liquid, presumably from one of the stalls nearby. “Here. Drink this.” His eyes were soft with concern as he watched Thace drain the canteen of its blissfully cool contents. When he had finished, Lotor helped him to his feet, bearing part of his weight while he recovered his balance.

“Didn’t this used to be the other way around?” he grumbled, half to himself.

Lotor laughed; a pleasant, silvery sound. "Let's get you out of the sun, my friend. I think you're becoming delirious.”


	5. Face to Face

> _ “Thace… Do you think you could ever like—I mean, ever be interested in someone  who’s not… a girl?” _
> 
> _ Thace’s head was spinning, his thoughts fogged by the effects of the liquor they’d stolen from his father’s stash, and he struggled to make sense of what Lotor was saying. He knew that was a thing—men who preferred men or women who like girls and so on—but he’d never really thought about it. And why was Lotor asking him about this  _ now? _ “Uh, I dunno.” His voice sounded absurdly thick, and he fought back a nervous giggle. “Like who?” _
> 
> _ Lotor laid his hand over Thace’s and looked up at him with wide, earnest eyes. He’d never seen him look so vulnerable. “Someone like… me?” _
> 
> _ Thace blinked, stunned, but he didn’t look away. Lotor moved closer, long fingers curling around his own. His heart raced, but now he was more curious than anything else. He hadn’t ever considered kissing a boy before, let alone his best friend; but here he was, and it didn’t seem so strange… He could smell Lotor’s breath, still sweet from the purloined spirits. He leaned forward a little, until their lips just barely touched… _
> 
> _ And then all hell broke loose. _

 

It wasn’t until the next morning that Thace really felt like himself again. Someone—probably Lotor—had arranged to have meals brought to his quarters, and he’d spent the remainder of the day and evening nursing his throbbing head in the blessedly cool, dark room. With the advent of the new day, he resolved to apply himself afresh to his assignment, and focus on gathering information for the Blades.

Thace was an early riser, so he was not entirely surprised to find the hallway deserted when he stepped out of his quarters. The lack of a guard, or any obvious surveillance, was more remarkable. He waited a dobosh, but still saw no one. The night shift would still be at their posts, he supposed, while most others would be asleep. If he were both cautious and lucky, he might be able to get a look at something he’d missed the day before. If he was challenged, he could simply claim that he’d gotten lost trying to find the commissary again. He started off down the corridor, affecting an air of affable nonchalance. He only got as far as the elevator before he heard the click of claws behind him.

Narti, the mysterious, near-silent general, stood watching him, her tail flicking restlessly behind her. Well, he  _ assumed _ she was watching him; it was difficult to be certain. Kova was perched on her shoulder, with his tail curled around her neck. He blinked slowly at Thace, and made a quiet chirping sound.

_ Looking for something? _ She signed, tilting her head to the side.

“Just hoping to find some breakfast.” He flashed her a self-deprecating grin, though he wasn’t sure if she could even see him.

Narti let out a series of low clicks.  _ The mess hall is not serving yet. _

“Oh, I see.” He tried to sound disappointed. Her unnervingly blank face was impossible to read; and it struck Thace that she would make an exemplary spy.  _ Or interrogator. _

She regarded him for another few ticks, the silence between them growing palpable. She looked up briefly, as though scenting the air.  _ Prince Lotor is in the gymnasium, _ she said finally.  _ If you do not wish to return to quarters, I can take you there. _

“That would be much appreciated.” He did remember the way, but he had the distinct impression that the escort was not optional.

Narti left him outside the training room door, but he had no doubt that she would reappear should he decide to stray. Inside, Lotor was sparring against a sentry robot, armed with a long, slim blade. His hair was tied back, and he was dressed in a sleeveless training suit that hugged his lean, muscular form. The droid moved more quickly than the ones Thace was used to; and it seemed more adept at anticipating and dodging attacks. It was still no match for Lotor, who looked almost bored as he danced out of its reach, and lazily deflected its blows. He moved with effortless grace, and Thace found himself mesmerized by the exquisite creature he had become. Something twisted inside his chest, and he wondered if it wouldn’t have been smarter just to say in his quarters after all. But then Lotor felled the sentry with a final, ringing strike, and it was too late for a graceful escape. He smiled at him as he stepped over the prone robot. His skin glistened with a sheen of sweat, and his face was flushed and glowing from the exertion—the picture of vitality. Thace swallowed hard.

“Thace!” he called brightly. His warm, rich voice pulled Thace out of his treacherous thoughts. “I’m glad to see you’re feeling better.”

“Immeasurably.” He rubbed the back of his crest, suddenly self-conscious. “Is that a new model of sentry?” he asked, hoping to direct the conversation away from himself. “I’ve never seen one move quite like that.”

Lotor glanced over his shoulder at the droid, which had now righted itself, and stood waiting new orders. “In a manner of speaking. I’ve upgraded its AI so that it’s more intuitive, and learns more quickly.” He turned back to Thace, and flicked a loose piece of hair from his face. “It doesn’t compare to sparring against a real opponent, of course.” He gave Thace an appraising look, a smile playing across his lips. “What do you say?” His grin spread wider, showing off his needle-sharp fangs. “Or has living on Central Command for so long made you soft?” His eyes flashed with mischief.

“When you put it that way, how can I refuse?” With a wry smile, he shrugged out of his jacket and tossed it on a nearby bench.

Thace had always devoted more time than the mandated minimum to his combat training, but none of those opponents were anything like Lotor. Most of them were sentries, or other officers who’d been on the hub—and off the front lines—at least as long as he had. Lotor had spent his entire life fighting opponents much larger than himself—opponents just like Thace. He seemed almost to flow around his strikes, always out of reach. It was like fighting water. Still, the Blade of Marmora had taught him a few unorthodox tricks, and he was able to hold his own against Lotor’s speed and strength for a good few doboshes.

“Not bad for an old man,” Lotor grinned as Thace parried his strike, sending sparks flying where their blades clashed.

“I’m only a few years older than you,” he complained, through gritted teeth.

Lotor laughed as he whirled out of reach once more. “Apologies. Not bad for someone so  _ distinguished. _ ”

Thace lunged at him with a growl. To his surprise, instead of lifting his sword, Lotor stepped in toward him, turning his body away from his sword, and grabbing hold of his extended arm by the elbow. The next few ticks were a blur. His weapon went flying out of his hand as his arm was twisted behind him, and he found himself face down on the mat with Lotor straddling his back. He tried to push up or twist free, but his other arm was pinned under Lotor’s knee.

Lotor leaned forward over his body so that his face was almost level with Thace’s. “Do you yield?” His breath was hot on the side of his ear, making his fur prickle up. He smelled of sweat, and that other spiced, foresty fragrance… Thace was suddenly acutely aware of the heat of Lotor’s body weighing down on him, and his thighs pressing against his sides.

“Yes, yes; I yield,” he muttered quickly, turning his face away.

Lotor rose gracefully to his feet and stepped away to let Thace sit up. He held out a hand, which Thace gratefully accepted, and pulled him up effortlessly.

“Perhaps I have gotten soft after all,” Thace said ruefully.

“I wouldn’t say that,” Lotor smiled. His blue eyes held Thace transfixed for a moment before he released his hand. “I found that very stimulating.” He reached behind his head to pull out the tie that held his hair, and shook his head so that it fell around his shoulders.

A new, uncomfortable warmth crept up under Thace’s collar. He tried to picture Kolivan’s scowl instead of Lotor’s face, but his resolve failed him. “What are your plans for the day,” he asked, grasping for a safe topic.

“Unfortunately, I have a rather depressing amount of reports and meetings to deal with,” he sighed, “but… perhaps afterward, I could send someone to find you. If you wanted to join me, that is,” he added hastily.

“Of course,” Thace heard himself say, before he could even fully process the question.

So much for focus.

 

He probably ought to have spent the afternoon pursuing his investigation of Lotor’s base. He had not. Instead, he paced the length of his small room, hands clasped behind his back, brows deeply furrowed. This time there would be no stern call from Kolivan to ground him. He considered, briefly, inventing some pretext for cutting his visit short; but as the comms in his quarters and aboard his ship were certainly being monitored, the obvious lie would only arouse suspicion. The reception that would await him at Central Command after aborting his mission so early didn’t make the idea any more appealing.  _ ‘Apologies High Priestess, I was forced to abandon my assignment because Prince Lotor was too charming?’ _ Thace grimaced, and pinched the bridge of his nose.

Of all the missions he’d undertaken, for both the Empire and the Blade, was this truly the one to be his undoing? No… He couldn’t leave, not yet. He didn’t  _ really _ want to, either; and perhaps that was what was most concerning—or should have been.

He was torn. Was it truly so terrible to find genuine comfort in seeing an old friend again? He might be a spy, but that didn’t make him immune to emotion.  _ But it’s supposed to. No attachments. No entanglements. _

He could easily insinuate himself into greater favor with Lotor—that much was obvious—learn his plans, ferret out his secrets. Kolivan would decide what to do with the information: how best to exploit Lotor’s friendship and trust. Thace let out a short huff, then a growl. He cursed Haggar and the Leader for putting him in this position, and himself for being unable to handle it.

He didn’t want to manipulate Lotor. He wanted to  _ deserve _ his trust, not take advantage of it. His duplicitousness bothered him now in a way he had never experienced in all his years of deceiving Prorok.  _ Perhaps I could tell him the truth; about the Blade, about everything. _ Lotor would respect that… but Kolivan would be livid.  _ And rightly so. _ Thace sighed. He didn’t know enough about Lotor’s operations or intentions to make that call. He couldn’t risk the lives of his fellow Blades, and all that they had worked for, simply to assuage his own conscience.

It wasn’t only his conscience that troubled him. No matter how hard he tried to discipline his thoughts, he couldn’t stop thinking about the way Lotor had moved in the training hall, with such captivating grace and power. He pictured his crooked smile, his crystal blue eyes… He groaned out loud, running his hands over his face. What was the word Kolivan would use to describe this sort of situation?  _ Compromised. _

 

Thace’s mind was still unsettled when his door chimed, vargas later.

“Howdy new friend,” Ezor purred, leaning in the doorway. “Prince Lotor sent me. You ready to go?” She looked him up and down with a lopsided smirk. He wondered if she knew something he didn’t.

“Certainly.” He pulled his jacket off the back of the chair and shrugged into it, then reflexively smoothed his neck fur down around the collar.

Ezor snickered behind her hand. “You look fine,” she drawled.

His cheeks burned, and Thace was glad of the layer of fur that hid his embarrassment. He cleared his throat. “Where are we going?”

“You’ll see.” She pulled him along through the corridors, her head tendril swaying merrily. This was an area of the building he hadn’t seen before, and he tried to keep the layout in mind despite his distracted state. Ezor stopped outside an unmarked door much like the dozens they’d passed already, and watched Thace out of the corner of her eye has she tapped on the access panel.

“Yes?” Lotor’s voice filtered through the intercom.

“I brought him,” she sang out, flashing her fangs at Thace in a wolfish grin. The door opened, and before he could react, she grabbed him by the arm and shoved him inside. “Go get him, tiger,” she giggled. Mortified and off-balance, he staggered forward.

Inside, Lotor was standing next to a long sofa, opening a bottle of some unfamiliar liquor. He’d traded his armour for more casual attire—a simple, long-sleeved indigo tunic, and charcoal-coloured leggings.  _ This must be his personal suite, _ he realized. Lotor looked up with a smile as the door closed behind Thace. He looked younger out of uniform, his features softer somehow. “I’m so pleased you could make it.” In fact, Thace reflected, he had been delivered like a sack of pochoro, but never mind that. “Please, sit.”

He took a seat, sinking into the soft, velvety cushions, while Lotor retrieved some glasses from a cabinet. The room was tastefully, if minimally decorated in the grey and blue shades he seemed to favour. There was a workstation with a large screen—now dimmed—and a low table opposite the couch, filled with plates of fruit and other finger foods, most of which he didn’t recognize. A door on the other side of the room presumably led to sleeping quarters.

“What’s all this?” Thace asked, leaning over to inhale the unfamiliar aromas.

“I had some things sent over from the kitchen,” he replied with a nonchalant shrug. “I thought you might be hungry.”

That, he was. He picked up a cube of something pale yellow and soft, holding it with the tips of his claws to inspect it. “What am I about to put in my mouth?”

Lotor laughed as he set a glass in front of him. “If I tell you, I’m afraid you won’t even try it,” he teased, eyes glittering with amusement.

Thace huffed indignantly as he popped the morsel into his mouth. It had a vaguely waxy texture, but the flavour was pleasant; creamy and nutty with a sour tang. He reached for another piece, then washed it down with a long draught from his glass. The beverage was similar to what he’d been served the other night at dinner, but a fair bit stronger.

Lotor settled onto the sofa and helped himself to a few items. He plucked a dark red, nearly black fruit from a bowl, and held it out to Thace. “Here. Since you didn’t get to try one the other day.”

“Sazàn?” He rolled it around on his palm before lifting it to his lips. Lotor nodded, watching him expectantly. Thick, syrupy juice flooded his mouth as he bit through the fibrous skin. It was tart at first, but deepened to a rich sweetness as he chewed. He closed his eyes briefly to better appreciate it, letting out a satisfied rumble. “That is truly incredible,” he chuffed. Without thinking, he licked the last beads of juice from his claws, not wanting to waste a drop.

“Yes… incredible,” Lotor repeated distractedly. Realizing his lapse in etiquette, Thace reached for his drink, ears twitching in embarrassment. Lotor looked away quickly, clearing his throat.

“I’ve been reading your file,” he said after an awkward few ticks. “Acxa was able to access Central Command’s databases via your ship.”  _ Haggar would love  _ that. Thace nodded, relieved to put his faux pas behind him. “You’ve done well for yourself,” Lotor was saying. “Second to the High Commander. The Empire has treated you well.” He took a sip of his drink, watching Thace over the rim of his glass.

“I suppose.” He shifted in his seat. “I must confess, it is not all I had envisioned when I was young.” His mouth twitched into a wry grimace.

“Nor I,” he laughed sourly. “I can only imagine what they are saying about me on the Hub these days.” Thace hissed a breath in through his teeth, unsure how to answer, but Lotor waved a dismissive hand before he had to decide. “It doesn’t matter. My father calls this exile; but I call it  _ freedom. _ ” He smiled, but his eyes were dark and knowing. “Haggar sent you to try and rein me in, but I’m beyond their grasp now.”

“I have no intention of being her pawn,” Thace protested, frowning. “As I’ve said already.”

“My generals do not think I should trust you. Acxa, mainly. They say that whatever we were to each other in our youth, I do not know you now.” Lotor’s eyes, scalpel-sharp, held Thace’s as he leaned close to his face. “Could a person truly change so much? You would never betray me, would you, Thace?”

He could not have looked away if he’d wanted to, pinned like an insect on a spreading board by that incisive gaze. “No,” he murmured; quiet but firm. “Of course not.” In the moment that he said the words, they were true—he never wanted to.

“I know.” Lotor’s expression softened. “I believe you.” He picked up the bottle, and reached across Thace to refill their drinks. “You were always too good for any of them. So”—he raised his glass—”shall we drink to the rekindling of old friendships?”

“Absolutely.” Thace’s face was hot and his head spun as he drained the cup, whether from the alcohol, or other factors.

“I want to show you something.” Lotor set his glass aside and got to his feet, disappearing into the other room. He was gone for a few doboshes; and Thace picked at the food some more, and filled the glasses with what was left in the bottle while he waited. It was perhaps not the most prudent choice—he was definitely feeling the effects now—but the warmth in his belly eased his nerves. The part of him that was still thinking about the mission rationalized that it might get Lotor talking more.

The Prince returned with a triumphant grin, holding up a small object. “Here it is!” he exclaimed, climbing over the back of the sofa. The liquor was having  _ some _ effect on him, at least. “Look.”

It was a small wooden figurine, roughly carved to look like a yupper. Thace recognized it immediately—he’d made it, after all. He turned it over slowly in his fingertips, eyes soft with amazement. “I can’t believe you still have this,” he murmured.

“Of course I do,” Lotor huffed. “It’s my good luck charm.” He flashed a crooked grin.

“Is it working?” Thace chuckled, as he set the little figure down on the table.

“So far.” He sat back against the cushions, lazily swirling the liquid around in his glass. He was quiet for a moment, a thoughtful, faraway look on his face. “You know, I had quite a crush on you, back then.” His tone was airy and casual, but he avoided looking at Thace.

_ So we  _ are _ going to talk about this. _ “Oh, I knew,” he sighed. “I, ah, figured it out when you tried to kiss me.” Lotor coughed into his glass, choking on his drink, his face now a dark shade of violet. Thace looked away with lowered ears.

He’d thought a lot about that almost-kiss in the days and weeks afterward. Lotor’s soft hand on his. The way he smelled. His fascinating eyes, azure blue on Galra gold. How  _ close _ they’d been, before Lotor’s bodyguard burst in with the sentries and dragged him off... Thace couldn’t look away, but he couldn’t do anything else either.

His parents had been furious, but also afraid. He wasn’t allowed to leave their rooms for days; and then the word had come that they were being transferred off the Hub. He’d begged to at least be allowed to say goodbye to the Prince, but they wouldn’t hear of it. He managed to get a friend of his to take a note for him, but he never knew if Lotor even got it. He never saw him again. Until now.

“So you did remember,” Lotor murmured. He stared at the bottom of his glass as though fastidiously examining its contents.

“I… would have let you,” Thace said softly. He didn’t know where the words had come from, but they were true.

Lotor’s head snapped up, and he fixed him with an intense, searching gaze. “And… now?” He leaned in closer, draping his arm over the back of the sofa.

Thace swallowed hard. “And now.”

It was like an out of body experience. He was aware of the magnitude of the transgression he was about to commit—the line he was about to cross—and precisely how he could avoid it… And yet, he did not. He couldn’t look away. He sat frozen and transfixed as Lotor took his face in his hands, brushing his thumbs along Thace’s cheekbones, then gently pressed his lips to his. The kiss was gentle, tender—almost chaste; but Thace felt anything but as he looked into Lotor’s half-lidded eyes.

“Was it everything you’d hoped for?” The wry tone he’d been aiming for was somewhat spoiled by the hoarse note in his voice.

Lotor flashed him a dangerous, beguiling smile. “Not everything.” He slung one leg over Thace’s lap, straddling him. He leaned in and kissed him deeply, urgently, fisting the lapels of his jacket. Any remaining self-control that remained to him was abandoned as Lotor pressed his body against him. Thace’s hands moved up his thighs to grip his waist, pulling him even closer as he eagerly returned the kiss. Somewhere at the back of his mind, Kolivan’s voice screamed at him in frustration; but soon that too was gone, as desire eclipsed reason.

Lotor tasted as heavenly as he smelled; Thace wished he could drink him in with all of his senses. His mouth strayed down over his elegant neck, and his teeth grazed over his collarbone. Lotor hissed with pleasure, knotting his fingers in the luxuriant fur at the back of his neck as he ground his hips into his. It was almost embarrassing how readily his body responded to Lotor’s touch. An urgent heat pooled at the base of his spine; it had been a long time—more than a decaphoeb—since anyone had touched him like this. Even if he’d been willing to lower his guard enough for someone to get close, it was the kind of complication he preferred to avoid.  _ Usually. _

Lotor was as eager as he was. His tiny but needle-sharp fangs nipped tantalizingly at Thace’s jawline as his hands explored the planes of his body, and he purred appreciatively against his neck as he pushed the jacket down off his shoulders. He drew back briefly from the embrace and pulled his shirt off over his head, letting it fall carelessly to the floor.

Stars, but he was beautiful. His lean, muscled body was furless, but wonderfully sculpted. The smoothness of his skin gave the impression of polished stone, but there was nothing cold or lifeless about the supple warmth of his flesh as Thace caressed his stomach and chest, worshipping him with his hands. His nipples were pierced with slim, silvery bars, and he inhaled sharply when Thace dragged his claws over them, arching into the touch.

They fell together again, mouths hot and hungry. Lotor’s slender fingers found the slide fastener of his suit and pulled it open to the waist. He slipped a hand inside, running his fingers through the thick fur, and let out a low, pleased growl. Thace shuddered with pleasure, his ears low and trembling. He wanted so much more… but one last sliver of doubt pricked at him.

“I don’t know if we should…” he mumbled half-heartedly against Lotor’s mouth.

“No?” he breathed, as he slid a hand up between Thace’s thighs. “This says otherwise.” His cock was already rock hard, completely unsheathed; and he couldn’t suppress a moan as Lotor palmed him through his suit.

It was less than a dobosh before Lotor had it peeled off him completely. Thace found himself sitting in stunned wonder, senses hazy with lust, as his old friend knelt between his legs.

“Stars, Thace.” He looked up at him through long white lashes, his eyes dark and sultry, his cheeks flushed. “You are a sight for sore eyes.” Lotor wrapped his fingers around his shaft and stroked him slowly, rubbing his thumb over the leaking slit. He leaned forward, brushing soft, teasing kisses along his length; his warm breath sending shivers of anticipation through him.

Thace heard himself gasp as his hot, wet tongue—so soft and smooth compared to a full-blooded Galra—swirled across the underside of his cock. His mouth traced a searing line from root to tip, kissing and suckling at every ridge, teasing until Thace  _ whined _ with need. He flicked his tongue over his head, lapping up the precum beading at his slit, before finally taking him into his mouth. Thace moaned as he dug his claws into the mattress, dizzy with pleasure. It took all of his willpower not to just grab Lotor by the hair and thrust up into the wet slide of his lips over his cock.

As if reading his thoughts, Lotor moved a hand up to Thace’s hip, holding him firmly in place. He took him in further with every stroke, humming with enjoyment as he swallowed his length. The vibrations were almost enough to send Thace over the edge; and  _ quiznak _ where had he learned how to do that with his tongue? Blood roared in his ears as his breaths became quicker, more ragged, Just as he reached the brink, Lotor drew back, pulling his mouth off his cock with a loud, wet pop. He rose slowly, sliding his hands up Thace’s thighs, then over his chest, as he leaned to kiss him, his lips wet and slightly swollen from his labours.

Thace hooked his thumbs into the waist of Lotor’s leggings, rubbing circles in the hollows of his hipbones, stopping short of where his erection strained against the fabric. Lotor made an impatient huffing sound, then hissed as Thace’s claws barely grazed his cock, his fingers tightening in his fur. Thace pressed rough, toothy kisses along his collarbone as he eased his pants down over his hips and thighs, until Lotor kicked them away.

He was not so different from any other Galra Thace had seen, aside from the absence of a sheath. His cock was a few shades darker than the pale lilac of his body, flushing to a deep plum at the head. It was not as heavily ridged as what he was used to, but this only made him look more exotic, enticing… “Beautiful,” Thace heard himself breathe, as he reached out to stroke him.

Lotor shuddered at the touch, bracing himself on Thace’s shoulders, a soft, needy whimper escaping his lips. He planted his knees on either side of his thighs, straddling him once more as his hand found its way down to grasp Thace’s aching cock. He moaned against his mouth as they pumped each other, matching stroke for stroke, the air growing heavy with the smells of sweat and sex.

“Thace,” Lotor rasped, breathless, barely audible. “Do you want me?”

It was an absurd question to be asked, when he had Lotor naked in his lap, and his hand full of his cock—but then the entire situation was still somewhat surreal to him. “Yes,” he groaned. “Gods yes.”

Lotor pushed him firmly down to the bed, and they fell in a sticky tangle of limbs and lust, rutting against each other while their hands and mouths explored everywhere they could. Lotor reached past him, fumbling for something in a bedside drawer, and he heard the click of a bottle opening. Thace groaned, his hips jerking involuntarily as a slicked hand stroked him, spreading the slippery fluid along his length.

“Patience,” Lotor hummed in his ear. With a single quick movement, he flipped Thace onto his back and knelt above him, gripping his waist between his legs.  _ Patience _ was the furthest thing from Thace’s mind as Lotor took his cock in his hand, positioning the head at his entrance. His hands moved up to Lotor’s waist, guiding him gently downward. He let out a deep, shuddering breath as he pushed inside, relishing the hot pulse of Lotor’s body around him.

Lotor grunted softly as each ridge slipped past his rim, his expression caught between pleasure and pain. He stilled for a few ticks as their hips met, his chin lowered to his chest, his face hidden behind a curtain of white. His long, elegant fingers splayed out over Thace’s stomach, his arms trembling faintly. “Quiznak,” he murmured, “you feel—”

“—incredible,” Thace breathed, awestruck, as Lotor languidly tossed his head back, flipping his hair back over his shoulder.  _ How is he so gods-damned gorgeous? _ His heart throbbed in his chest as his desire swelled further still.

Lotor flashed him a sly, knowing smirk, then rolled his hips languidly against him; an unhurried movement that left him aching for more. Tightening his hold on Lotor’s waist, he began to thrust up into him, matching the slow pace at first, savouring every new sensation. The way his body gripped him as they moved together felt divine, tight and slick. He increased his pace, thrusting harder, deeper; spurred on by Lotor’s wanton moans and gasps. Hungry for more, he drew himself up to a sitting position, pulling Lotor against his chest. He slipped one arm around his waist, then reached between them with the other to wrap his hand around his slick, dripping cock. Lotor groaned and craned his neck back, his expression pure bliss as Thace stroked him in time with his thrusts. His mouth found Lotor’s throat, tasting the salt of his sweat as his pulse drummed against his tongue.

Lotor raked his nails across his shoulders, his breaths growing shorter and more ragged as he rocked his hips between Thace’s cock and his hand. “Thace,” he panted. His own name had never sounded so sweet. “Ah...ah... _ harder _ —!”

A pleased growl escaped his lips as he rolled Lotor onto his back, hooking one of his legs over his shoulder. His head lolled back against the pillows, eyes squeezed tightly shut, brows hitching together, his mouth hanging open in a perfect ‘o’ as Thace pounded into him. He felt the pressure of his climax building, heat and pressure growing more insistent, coiling at the base of his spine. For a tick, the universe contracted to encompass nothing more than Lotor’s body and his own, and the place where they were so exquisitely joined.

Lotor tensed, then spasmed around him, digging his claws into the bedclothes. He howled through clenched teeth as he came, spilling ribbons of bluish white between them. Thace was close behind, pressing rough kisses to his throat and shoulders as he edged closer to the brink; biting as the intense waves of his orgasm overtook his senses. After a last few erratic thrusts, he collapsed on top of Lotor, panting into the dishevelled mess of his hair. For a golden moment they lay tangled together, warmed by the afterglow as Lotor’s heart beat steadily against Thace’s ribs.

Thace propped himself up on an elbow to look at Lotor, brushing the hair away from his face. His eyes were half-lidded and hazy with pleasure. A satisfied smile played lazily over his lips; but a rapidly darkening bite mark marred the smooth skin of his neck, and Thace could faintly discern a trace of wetness leading from the corner of his eye. His face fell, his gut twisting unpleasantly. “Did I hurt you?” he asked, dismayed.

Lotor reached up and snaked his arms around Thace’s neck. “A little, perhaps,” he sighed, tracing the point of Thace’s ear with a fingertip. His smile widened, turning positively devilish. “Do it again.”

Vargas later, sleep continued to elude him. It should have been easy—Lotor’s appetites had thoroughly worn him out, and the shower afterward had left him feeling warm and drowsy; but his mind refused to quiet. Lotor had been asleep for over a varga, his handsome features relaxed, untroubled. He hardly seemed real; none of this did. Propped up on one elbow, Thace watched the steady rise and fall of his chest, wondering if he hadn’t imagined what had happened; asking himself whether it might be better if he had.

Kolivan was going to kill him if he found out.  _ I tried to tell him… _ Not that it would have mattered; Haggar would have sent him anyway. The more he thought about it, the more likely it seemed that the Leader would be simply point out that this development could be worked to the Blade’s advantage. Lotor would be less inclined to secrecy around a lover, less guarded with information. His personal terminal was just in the next room. Thace could easily access it. He could find out all of Lotor’s plans, details on his dealings with the Imperial fleets in this sector, any weaknesses the Blade of Marmora could exploit, other key figures they could turn…

He could. He  _ should... _ but the thought sickened him. He didn’t want to have  _ used _ Lotor like that. An unpleasant lump stuck in his throat, as though he’d swallowed a hot ball of tar. Why must it be so complicated? Why couldn’t he just enjoy this reunion with Lotor, and the intense new feelings that welled up when he so much as looked at him?  _ Because you swore an oath, that’s why _ . To devote his life to ending Zarkon’s tyranny; a cause that demanded his single-minded devotion.

An involuntary rumble of frustration rolled in his chest. Lotor shifted restlessly next to him, stirred by the noise. He half opened his eyes, his gold sclera gleaming faintly in the darkness.

“Thace?” he murmured, his voice thick with sleep. “You’re still awake?” He rolled onto his side, and rested a hand on Thace’s arm. “Is something the matter?”

Thace shook his head, flicking his ears. “No,” he sighed. “Just thinking.”

“About?” Lotor’s blue eyes searched his.

“About… what happens next, I suppose,” he offered with a wan smile. It was as close to the truth as he could safely manage.

“What happens next, hmm?” Lotor let out a contented huff as he pulled himself closer, resting his head in the crook of Thace’s arm. “Stay,” he purred, nuzzling into the fur on his shoulder. He draped his arm languidly over Thace’s waist, possessive. “Haggar will assume I’ve had you executed. The Empire doesn’t deserve you…”

Thace hummed quietly. In this moment, there was nothing he wanted more. Perhaps there was some way to make it work. If he stayed, he could gradually win Lotor around to the Blade’s perspective, instead of whatever sort of benevolent dictatorship he was crafting for himself now. They could work together to bring down Zarkon’s empire… But in the meantime, would he have to keep sneaking around, trying to liaise with Kolivan behind Lotor’s back? His ears drew back slightly as his stomach churned.

“Perhaps I need to give you more of an incentive.” Lotor hugged his waist tighter, and laid a kiss in the hollow of his throat.

Thace sighed as his hand drifted to stroke Lotor’s hair, his claws idly carding through the silky strands. It was so easy; so natural. “I’ll think about it.”

He felt Lotor’s smile against his neck. “Good.”


	6. A Good Man is Hard to Find

> _ “What’s this, then? A love letter?” Kiana turned the carefully-folded paper over in her claws, eyeing it with a contemptuous smirk. _
> 
> _ “N-no!” he sputtered, mortified, ears twitching nervously. For a tick he debated snatching it back, but he couldn’t think of another way. Time was running short, and his parents still wouldn’t let him out of their quarters—they’d only agreed to let Kiana come over because he’d told them he needed her to return some study materials. _
> 
> _ “Isn’t he the reason you’re in so much trouble?” She cast him a dubious glance. _
> 
> _ “It’s complicated,” he muttered, looking away.  _ You have no idea. _ “Look just… just promise you’ll get it to him? Please?” _
> 
> _ “Fiiiine,” she said, after a long, put-upon sigh. “I don’t get why you waste so much time with him, Thace. He’s so… weird.” _
> 
> _ “Maybe… maybe I like that.” _

 

“Well, well, well… Look who’s doing the walk of shame.”

Thace’s shoulders stiffened at the unexpected sound of Ezor’s voice behind him. “Do you always spy on your commander’s guests?” He flicked his ears, equal parts embarrassed and annoyed, but hoping the latter would cover the former. Where the devil had she come from, anyway? He could have sworn the corridor had been empty.

“Not always,” she drawled, with a sly, impish grin. “Consider yourself a special case.” She sauntered along beside him, easily matching his strides.

“Lucky me,” he muttered through gritted teeth. He was not in the mood for banter at the moment; all he wanted was some fresh clothes and a little time to himself to process what had happened, and what he was going to do about it. If his head would stop spinning, that would be a welcome bonus.

“Aw, come on now.” She stuck out her bottom lip, tilting her head to one side. “I  _ like  _ you. Which is why I’m going to give you this word of advice.” With a coy wink, she linked her arm with his, dropping the pout. “If you try to run away, Zethrid will just hurt you more.”

Thace stopped mid-stride and blinked at her, his face slack with bewilderment—until a large gloved hand clapped down on his shoulder. A hot flash of anger melted his confusion away as he whirled around and came face to face with Zethrid’s shark-toothed smile. Instinct screamed at him to take her hand and throw her, use her weight and size against her, and get away; but he was outnumbered, and he knew Ezor’s warning was no empty threat. Besides, he had a feeling that escaping their clutches would do little to solve his problems.

“What’s the meaning of this?” he growled, his ears pressing back against his skull.

“We’re just gonna have a little chat.” Zethrid’s dark eyes were hard and dangerous.

“Have you ever considered just asking nicely?” he grunted as she took hold of his free arm.

She barked out a harsh laugh. “This  _ is _ me asking nicely.”

Thace was not at all surprised to find Acxa waiting for them in the small meeting room, sitting at the head of the table with Narti beside her. The short walk had given him more than enough time to consider who had orchestrated this little ambush. The question that remained was what Acxa had to gain, and how she expected to get away with it. Her cool, unwavering expression betrayed no trace of doubt or anxiety as her companions showed Thace to a seat.

“What do you want?” he demanded, the barest edge of a snarl in his voice.

“What are you doing here?” She leaned forward on her elbows, her eyes narrowed, hands folded in front of her chin.

He gritted his teeth again, gripping the arms of the chair. “I’ve already told you all of this. Haggar sent me to spy on Lotor, yes; but I—”

“That’s not what I asked,” she cut in. Her lips thinned, her eyebrows drawn sharply together. “I asked what you’re  _ doing _ here.”

“She means with Prince Lotor,” Ezor added in a loud stage whisper, bending to his ear.

Thace’s mouth fell open briefly, then snapped shut. “That’s—I don’t think that’s any of your affair.” He was not about to explain or justify his relationship with Lotor when he could barely come to grips with his own feelings.

“I disagree.” Axca stood up, flattening her palms on the tabletop as she glared across at Thace. “I think it very much  _ is. _ It may not seem like it to an outsider”—she hissed out the word, turning it into a curse—”but our position here is delicate. Precarious. I need to make certain that you aren’t going to upset that balance.”

Sensing the tenuousness of his own situation, he opted against asking what she meant by that. “General, I can assure you—”

“No, you can’t. But she can.”

Narti rose fluidly from her chair, a quiet rattle rolling in her throat. Like a specter, she glided toward him with one hand outstretched. The fur on the back of his neck stood up as though charged with static electricity.

“Don’t fight it,” Zethrid’s voice was low and foreboding as she clamped her claws around his shoulder.

“Fight wh…” The question died on his lips as Narti’s fingers brushed his cheek, and he  _ knew _ . His head felt suddenly swollen, overfull; as though his sinuses were blocked with infection. An indistinct whispering voice echoed in his ears; faint at first, then building in intensity along with the pressure within his skull.  _ A telepath. _ He tried to stand up, to twist away, but his body refused to cooperate. All at once, the pressure gave way, and he was no longer alone inside his mind.

Tendrils of thought ghosted across his mind, like cobwebs dragged over the surface of his psyche. Slowly, slowly, they delved deeper into his consciousness to rifle through memories, thoughts, emotions…  _ “Show me,”  _ a voice whispered, utterly alien, yet somehow compelling.  _ “Tell me.” _

His first instinct was to obey, but whatever small part of him remained sensate screamed to resist. With all the force he could muster, he tried to drive out the invader, but it was useless. None of his training had prepared him for this kind of interrogation. Panic rose in his throat, choking off his air; and still  _ she _ was there, prodding, picking...

An idea struck him—if he couldn’t push Narti out, perhaps he could stymie her efforts some other way. He turned inward, calling on the meditative techniques the Blade had taught him to quiet his thoughts, and empty his mind. A pulse of annoyance flowed across the link he unwillingly shared with his inquisitor before the intrusion grew more forceful and insistent. Thace cast about for something to anchor him, lest the last of his free will be swept away. He seized upon the memory of a song, an old folk tune his mother had used to sing him to sleep.

The lyrics and melody were imprinted on him as a cub, impossible to forget. He turned it over and over in his mind, repeating until it became a mantra, letting it fill his consciousness until there was nothing else for her to find. Somewhere outside the vault of his skull, he heard a frustrated hissing. The prodding grew more insistent now, almost painful; but he let it pass over him, through him. It was immaterial, and only the song held his focus.

How long this dance continued, he could not say. It seemed like hours, days; but then there was another, sharper hiss, and she was gone. Thace lurched forward in his chair, panting, his fur damp. His head throbbed as the room swam back into focus around him. An orange blur to his left became Ezor; the hulking shape beside her, Zethrid. Narti had moved back to Acxa's side, her hand resting lightly on her forearm. Acxa stared him down with steely blue eyes, her lips pinched with displeasure.

"Well, I've never seen  _ that _ before," murmured Ezor.

"Your will is strong, Lieutenant." Acxa stepped around the table, Narti hovering behind her. "I'll give you that much."

"I don't know what you think you're doing," he growled. He'd recovered his senses enough to find his anger now. "When Prince Lotor hears what you've done--"

"I did what I had to do," she snapped. "To protect him. To protect  _ us _ ."

"From what?" He bared his teeth, hackles raised. " _ I _ am not the one ambushing guests and violating their private thoughts."

"You are  _ dangerous _ ," Acxa hissed. "You may have resisted Narti's deeper probes, but she saw enough." Her eyes flashed dangerously as she loomed over him, leaning on the armrests of his chair. For such a small person, she had a powerful presence. Thace was impressed, if not intimidated. What did shake him was the emotion etched into her delicate features—the righteous anger of one who sincerely believes they are justified. “You’re hiding something, Thace; but worse than that, you’re a distraction.”

“...Pardon?” He tilted his head slightly to one side, flicking his ears lower. Under other circumstances, he might have laughed at the irony.

Acxa sighed with irritation, as though she were addressing a particularly thick child. She pushed herself back off his seat, and crossed her arms tightly over her chest. “Prince Lotor is a strategist. You don’t survive this long in a universe that wants to destroy you without being careful. Everything is meticulously planned, every contingency plotted, steps and steps ahead. It may appear that we are comfortable here, safe—perhaps he even told you that—but it is an illusion. This is all a complicated dance, intricately choreographed. One misstep, and we fall into chaos. Our position here, all of our resources, have been bartered with promises of what we can provide as representatives of the Empire, leveraged by the unspoken threat of how much worse things would be under Zarkon’s customary style of rule.”

“A bluff,” he said, slowly. Calling in the Imperial fleet proper would be at least as disastrous for Lotor as for the planets he stewarded.

“And on the other side of the equation,” Acxa continued, ”we have this sector’s fleets. Any officer assigned to this area is as much an undesirable as we are, but even so, there are those who dream of making some sort of name for themselves by challenging Lotor’s authority. So far we have ferreted out any such conspiracies before they amounted to anything.” Her frown deepened, the corners of her mouth turning downward. “So far.

“All of this requires his attention. His  _ complete _ attention.” She leaned forward again, so that her eyes were level with his. “Which brings us back to you, Lieutenant Thace. The one factor that Lotor did not anticipate. You’ve just”—she made an abortive, frustrated gesture with her hands—”breezed in here, and bypassed all his defenses. He barely even questioned you!” she sputtered. “You don’t understand. Lotor doesn’t trust  _ anyone _ like this.” Acxa glanced away for a fraction of a tick, an almost imperceptible waver in her voice.

_ But I do understand… _ Guilt sat heavy in the pit of his stomach.

“It’s shattered his focus,” she resumed, cold and even once more. “We—he can’t afford that. Zarkon is too dangerous. If he ever cared enough to send one of his own fleets instead of the occasional spy—or Stars forbid, come out here himself—we would be finished.”

Thace nodded—call the bluff, and it would be game over. Disgraced commanders relegated to the edge of the universe might have resigned themselves to serving Lotor, but if offered the chance to return to the Emperor’s good graces they would turn on him in a heartbeat.  _ If he were to learn that his son was keeping company with a member of a counter-Imperial insurgent group, for instance. _ A cold hand gripped Thace’s heart, and dread gnawed at his gut, but he kept his expression schooled.

“Narti says that you do...care for him; but your loyalties are divided.” Acxa’s words were slow, deliberate. Narti murmured her assent with a series of low clicks, swishing her tail through the air. “If you can’t commit yourself to this—to Lotor—in every respect, you can’t be here.” She held his gaze, eyes hard as stones, lips thinned to a dark blue line.

A sinking, queasy feeling stole up on him as he realized that she was right. One way or another, he  _ would _ end up hurting Lotor, or getting him hurt… He slumped slightly, the fight gone out of him.

“Can you tell me, honestly, that you would put him first? Ahead of… whatever actually brought you out here?” Acxa’s voice softened, but her eyes were as sharp and penetrating as ever.

Thace tasted ash on his tongue, and acid at the back of his throat. His heart ached to say yes...but the Blade was depending on him. Whether he stayed here or returned to his post on the Hub, it was no boast to say that he was vital to their efforts to dethrone Zarkon—a goal that would benefit the whole of the universe. How could Thace possibly put his own selfish desires above that? And Lotor… Lotor would be disappointed, hurt; but he would have his generals—his friends—to support him. He would survive. He would be better off…  _ Better still if I had never come. _

He looked away, eyes lowered. “No,” he said, with bitter finality, his voice brittle as dried leaves. “I can’t. You’re right.” Before any of them could stop him, he stood and brushed past Zethrid and Ezor, heading for the door.

“Wow,” he heard Zethrid mutter just as the door slid shut, “I really wasn’t expecting that to work.”


	7. Don't Look Away

 

> _“Lotor—_
> 
> _Everything is all mixed up in my head since the other night. I don’t know… anything? Except I wish I could see you and talk to you for real, but my parents won’t let me. We’re being transferred off the Hub soon and I don’t know_ _if_ _when I’ll see you again. I’m sorry. I’ll miss you a lot. I won’t ever forget about you._
> 
> _Yours always,_
> 
> _Thace”_

 

Thace tried to keep his expression neutral and impassive as he moved through the compound, but the curious looks of passerby told him he was only partly successful. His thoughts and emotions roiled together like a noxious black ichor. He felt as though he was dissolving from the inside out— _or rotting,_ he supposed. The anticipation of what he had to do left a putrid taste in his mouth, but the quicker, the more cleanly he could break away, the less painful it would be. Or so he hoped. He cursed Haggar, Acxa, and even Kolivan; but the greater part of his bitterness was directed inward. How impulsive he’d been, how short-sighted and self-absorbed… It was unconscionable from any perspective.

The last thing that he wanted was to hurt Lotor. Despite how he’d compartmentalized his past, he had always cared for him. Seeing him again now, that affection—and adolescent curiosity—had grown into something else; something he hadn’t expected. Something that now aggrieved him to leave behind. If only he’d been more careful, more disciplined. There was a reason that the Blade forbade active agents from forming relationships and attachments. Many, in fact. The layers of his failure weighed heavy as grave soil on Thace’s conscience.

He found Lotor still in his quarters, working at his personal terminal. As he entered, Thace caught only the briefest glimpse of unfamiliar characters and schematics, before he dimmed the screen.

“I didn’t expect you to return so soon,” Lotor purred, his voice like silk and honey. “Not that I mind, of course.” He had not yet dressed, wearing only a long indigo robe. His hair was swept back in a loose braid, except for the one stray lock that always seemed to defy restraint. He rose gracefully to meet Thace, sliding his hands up his chest to rest on his shoulders. He tucked his head under Thace’s chin with a pleased huff, his breath warm against his throat.

Lotor’s intoxicating scent flooded his senses, and the press of his body against Thace’s sent an agonizing pang of longing through him. All he wanted was to wrap his arms around Lotor, crush him against his chest and never let go… Instead, he stood still and stiff, his ears low and trembling. He thought he might be sick.

Sensing the tension in his muscles, Lotor drew back, a frown creasing his brow. “What’s the matter?”

“I can’t… I have to leave,” he croaked, hoarse. The words stuck in his throat like barbs.

Lotor’s frown deepened, his lips thin and tight. “What—why? So soon?” He stepped away, dropping his hands to his sides. He eyed Thace with eyes turned dark and wary. “You said you would consider my offer,” he said slowly, “but it doesn’t seem as though you’ve given it much thought at all.”

“I have to return to the Hub; my duties…” He knew how weak that sounded, how hollow. “The longer I remain, the worse it will be for both of us.” A pleading note crept into his voice.

“Your duties to the Empire,” Lotor repeated flatly. “Yes, I see.” His fingers coiled into fists as he turned away. His claws were extended, and Thace could almost feel their bite in his own palms.

“It’s not—”

“How naïve I’ve been, to think that I might still mean something to you. Acxa was right.”

The bitter resignation in Lotor’s words stung far more than his fury could. _He thinks that I’ve manipulated him, used him; at worst for Haggar’s amusement, and at best for my own pleasure…_ Worst of all was how easily he believed and accepted this interpretation. Thace’s chest ached, a hard lump forming in his throat. Perhaps, from an objective point of view, it would be better to leave Lotor believing he was so jaded, so cruel; but he couldn’t bear it.The thought was poison, and if he left it to fester it would drive him mad. He stretched his hand out toward Lotor’s shoulder; thought better of it; pulled back. He wished he knew how to mend what he had broken.

“I didn’t come here to hurt you.” He didn’t bother to smooth out the tremor in his voice.

Lotor gave a snort of derision, and did not turn around. Hurt and anger bled from him, until the air between them was thick and noisome. Thace swallowed hard, trying to push down the burning in his chest. There was only one way forward if he wanted to keep Lotor’s trust: he had to show his own.

“I must tell you something,” he began, before the silence could become even more insidious. “It… it could mean my life if it gets back to the Empire, but I need”—his voice faltered, catching in his throat—”I need you to understand.” Lotor remained silent, but a minute twitch of an ear betrayed his interest.

“I belong to a secret counter-Imperial group,” he continued, his ears twitching nervously. There was no going back now. “For thousands of years, they’ve been trying to find a way to end Zarkon’s tyranny. They recruited me just after I applied to the Academy. I’ve spent decaphoebs working my way up the ranks to get back to the Hub, where I could keep the Emperor and his inner circle under surveillance.”

Lotor shifted slowly, twisting at the waist to look at him askance. “Right under my father’s nose,” he murmured.

“Yes… and there is no one else who can do what I do.” Thace stepped forward, closing the distance between them. “I’ve never lied to you, Lotor,” he professed. “I won’t betray you, to Haggar or anyone else; that I swear. You… you were the reason I joined the Blade of Marmora. You showed me that the Empire’s way was flawed, irreparably. And now, they… they need me.”

“And I do not?” Lotor hissed. The corners of his mouth pulled back, exposing his fangs.

Thace’s ears drooped miserably, his brow furrowed with distress. “There is—the only way would be if you agreed to join our cause,” he blurted out, grasping at straws. “The leader might allow me to stay here as a liaison—or perhaps I could return with you to our base.” Such a high-profile defection might be enough to justify sacrificing his position at Central Command.

Lotor looked away again, his jaw clenched tightly. “I could never abandon my generals. And your Blades seem in no hurry to unseat my father—thousands of years, did you say?” he scoffed. “No, I have plans to move on a much more… proximate timetable.” A dark wisp of a smile curled on his lips.

“Tell me,” Thace pleaded, his ears pricking forward. “Perhaps the Blade of Marmora could join your efforts.”

Lotor turned back to Thace. His gaze wavered for the briefest fraction of a tick, then steadied, hardened. “I… cannot. Not yet. I haven’t even told Acxa and the others. But if you stay”—he reached up to run his fingers tenderly through the fur just under Thace’s jawline—”I will show you.”

Thace’s hand reached for him unbidden. He cupped his face, brushing the angle of his cheek with a thumb. “If I do,” he faltered, “I’m afraid that sooner or later I will have to make a choice between you and my duty to the Blade…”

“So choose _me_.” All of the steel had left Lotor’s eyes, now wide and imploring.

He wanted to, stars help him. He wanted to pull him into an embrace that would last until they blurred together into one, to forget about the Blade and his oaths… but the universe was so vast against the small problems of two ill-fated men. Next to what hung in the balance, Thace’s pain was insignificant. He only wished that he could have spared Lotor from it.

“I...can’t,” he whispered, his voice cracking.

Lotor’s eyes dimmed as he stepped back, and Thace felt a few of those silver-white strands slip through his fingers. “Then… you do what you must, Thace.” His arms were limp at his sides, his shoulders lowered. There was no biting remark, no flippancy or even anger, on the surface at least. Thace had never seen him look so defeated. Guilt tore at him. He wanted to take it back, to promise he would never leave… Instead, he turned and walked away.

He paused at the door, daring one backward glance while unshed tears stung his eyes. Lotor had not moved, still watching Thace’s retreating form. His lips were pressed thin, his jaw trembling almost imperceptibly. And his eyes… _Oh, Ancients._ As long as he lived, Thace would remember them; that gaze like a knife in his heart.

_I’m so sorry._

Thace did not bother to retrieve the few belongings he’d brought. It was only his armour and a few changes of clothes anyway. Replaceable _things_ , nothing of real value. The only thing he wanted to keep was the one thing he couldn’t have; and he knew that if he turned back for anything, his resolve would surely crack. He kept his head down, avoiding eye contact with the few people he passed, and made his way as directly as possible to the main exit.

The merciless sun was at its highest point as he emerged, blinding him with searing brightness. With every breath, the heat of a blast furnace roasted his lungs; and for a moment he fancied that the tarmac beneath his feet might melt, and swallow him whole. He would not have been ungrateful. The moment passed however, and he pressed on across the landing pad, through the shimmering heat haze.

When he reached the ship, he found Acxa waiting for him. He slowed his approach, wary. It was possible that Lotor had ordered her to intercept him—whether to detain him, or… _No._ He banished the thought before it could take root. Whatever her reasons for being here, they must be her own.

“What do you want?” he growled, bristling his fur in a display of aggression and confidence he did not feel. His fingers twitched, ready to pull out the lucite blade concealed in his boot; but Acxa made no move to draw her pistol.

“I wanted to apologize,” she began, haltingly, as though the word was unfamiliar to her, “for how we… dealt with you.” She looked away, her eyes downcast and her lips pinched.

Thace barked out a mirthless laugh. “It doesn’t matter,” he spat. “You were right about me. You’ve won, you’ve chased me off. Are you not satisfied?”

Acxa glared back up at him, eyes flashing with blue fire. “I’m not some kind of… jealous harridan, Lieutenant,” she snarled.

He pressed his ears back against his skull, and bared his own teeth in return. “Why do you care what I think of you?”

“Because”—she lowered her gaze and huffed out a short sigh—”I _wasn’t_ right. I misjudged you.” She hugged one arm against her side, a jarringly girlish gesture. “You wouldn’t be so...upset if you didn’t care; and I—I’m afraid I’ve made a terrible mistake.”

“No, you haven’t,” he sighed. His shoulders dropped, his hackles beginning to smooth out. Between the heat and the burden of his sins, he felt suddenly deflated, crushed. “Let your conscience be clear. I ought to thank you”—a wry smirk twisted on his lips at her bewildered look—”but you’ll have to forgive my manners if I don’t quite feel up to that.”

Acxa shifted her weight from one foot to the other like an awkward schoolchild. “Your ship has been prepared for takeoff,” she said finally.

Thace nodded, and she stood stiffly aside as he keyed in the access code to lower the gangplank. He climbed the first few steps slowly, with leaden feet. “Just… promise that you’ll look after him,” he murmured as he paused at the threshold. He wasn’t certain that she’d heard him, until he caught her soft reply:

“Of course.”

He could not shake the thought that he himself had done more damage to Lotor in barely a movement than Zarkon had managed in decaphoebs. Perhaps that had been Haggar’s design all along.

 


	8. Epilogue

“I will know if you lie,” she’d said; but she hadn’t, not really. For all her powers, she couldn’t see into his thoughts the way Narti had. He told her what she wanted to hear, just like he’d promised he would. Lies were easy, far easier than the reality of his life. Returning to them was familiar, almost soothing. Like slipping into a warm bath.

Kolivan was harder; he was owed truth. Even so, Thace was almost able to get through his debrief without letting on just how badly he’d compromised himself. Almost. “Lotor is not ready to join our cause yet,” he’d told him, and that one little word had been his undoing.

“Yet? So you do believe he could be recruited? Perhaps if you were to return at a later date?”

“No. Send Ulaz, send Antok, I don’t care. If I go back, I… I will not have the strength to leave again.” He’d failed to contain his anguish, the vehemence of his reply taking the normally stoic Leader by surprise. To his profound relief, Kolivan let the matter drop, leaving him to retreat to his life of comfortable lies.

He would lie to Haggar, lie to Prorok, Throk, Hazar... but most of all himself, until he believed that he had made the right decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well done you for reaching the end of this monster! If you liked it, check out the prequel works in this series, or come flail with me on [tumblr](http://lotors-saltwife.tumblr.com)! And please do check out the beautiful art created by my GBB partner, [Mythorie,](http://galrannoodle.tumblr.com) which should be coming soon!
> 
> Special thanks to my wonderful beta readers, Nary, Lannie, and Mr. Longpig. :3


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